Sookie's Blog
by merick
Summary: What if Gran didn't raise Sookie, but instead she and Jason were sent to Uncle Bartlett's place? How would she meet the Vamps and what would they want? Rated M for adult and disturbing concepts of sexual abuse, prostitution, and suicidal thoughts.
1. Chapter 1

Okay, so this is OC, maybe AU too, and it is going to deal with some seriously sad and adult themes; and we are going to mention Uncle Bartlett, because I want to explore how if he had been the one to raise Sookie, and not Gran, how much different things could have gone for her. Bill and Eric will still be here, Pam too, but Sookie is going to be a very different character.

The scenes of the childhood sexual abuse will not be very graphic, but they will be mentioned, maybe as a way to exorcise some demons of my own. SO if you don't want to read them please stop now and move on to a different story, I won't be offended.

As always, the characters aren't mine, I am just taking them out to a very dark playground to have a try on the swings and slides.

This is different for me; tell me if I make you cry.

Merick

Part 1

I've never tried 'blogging' before. Hell, I've never done much of anything on computers. We had two back at school, before I left, and my grade never had classes on them. But I thought I should get this out, now that I've made some decisions about how my life is going to go. Since I don't have any person to talk to about what's happened to me, I thought I'd just put it out there, and see if anyone bothered to read it. And just hope, that maybe if someone hears my story that they can recognize the signs, and maybe save some other girl from going through what I did, and ending up where I did.

It isn't going to be perfect, I'm sure my spelling will suck, and my grammar too; though it seems to underline things in red and green as I am typing which likely means I've made some kind of error, so I'll use those as cues to try to fix things. My tenses are probably going to waver too, and I go from what happened, to what is happening, and whatever is in my head at the time I type this.

Confused yet? Still want to read this? Good, I'm glad some of you are still there.

My name is Sookie. I don't suppose it matters anymore if I use my real one, once I finish this story I'll be dead anyways and it won't matter if someone recognizes it. Some evil little part of me hopes that the adults who couldn't see me before or made themselves not see me, and listen to me will find it, and feel some guilt that they could have stopped all of this if only they'd cared. But who wants to stop and help the strange little orphan girl with the weird eyes anyways?

I am a survivor of childhood sexual abuse. That's what you're supposed to say at the meetings aren't you? I went to one, mostly because it was really cold out, and the girls said they would have warm coffee and fresh doughnuts, and I didn't even have to say anything. So I sat at the back, and ate and drank, and tried not to listen too much, because I didn't want to hear how strong everyone else was in dealing with it. My toes warmed up, and my stomach stopped growling, and by the time it was done there was still a lot of night left to go out and make some money. The leader of the group tried to talk to me, I lied about my name, and where I was from, but she could tell I belonged there, even if I couldn't say the words out loud. I'm a coward, maybe that's why I'm writing all this on the anonymous internet, so I don't have to look anyone in the eyes and say out loud what he did to me when I was just a child, and what I'd let myself become to escape him. I'm not a survivor, I'm a victim.

Well, here it goes.

My parents were taking me, my brother Jason and my gran into town for something; I don't even remember what the occasion was anymore. We were driving over a bridge when the water just sort of pushed it over, and us into the river. It was funny, in a tragic sort of way, 'cause I don't even remember it being rainy, or stormy when it happened. It was just kind of like the hand of god smacked itself down in the river and splashed up a wake out of nowhere.

Jason and I got out of the car, no one else did. He was eleven, I was eight. The social worker who came in from Shreveport drove us over to Uncle Bartlett's from the hospital. He was the only family we had left then. He moved our stuff from Mom and Dad's house on the weekend, sold the house, and drank it away. Gran had had enough sense to make a will, leaving her house to us, I mean Jason and I, so the lawyer handled that sale and put the money in trust till we turned twenty-one. Guess I'm never going to see any of that, I'm not going to make twenty-one.

Uncle Bartlett loved Jason. He'd never had kids of his own, and Jason was an up and coming talent on the football team at school, even at eleven the high school coaches could see potential. Uncle Bartlett saw other potential. I'll get into that later. Uncle Bartlett liked me, but for a completely different reason. I should explain something here, and don't let it freak you out. I can read minds. I can't remember when I realized that I could, I think I've probably always been able to do it. Uncle Bartlett's mind was sickening. From the time I was young he'd always had really nasty thoughts about me; sexual thoughts. Something that no man should ever have about a little girl. If we all got together for a family thing, party, fourth of July, Christmas, he'd find every excuse to yank me onto his lap. He'd hold me there tightly and I learned really early on not to squirm, he liked that, and it made something in his pocket get really hard.

I'd been so innocent, not understanding what arousal was then. I only knew that he thought of the most ugly pictures. Me, all undressed, little hands wrapped around part of him I'd never seen before. Uncle Bartlett was the reason I learned how to block out people's thoughts, when I concentrated hard enough. He was the reason I learned to do so many things in my mind. He'd try to touch me when he though no one was watching, sliding his hands between my legs. I fought with my Mom against wearing skirts to those parties, it only made it easier for him. She never understood why I didn't want to dress like 'a little lady', because I was 'so pretty in frilly dresses'. I tried not to hate her for not understanding.

If those times had been bad, it turned to all hell when they made us go live with him, because there was no one for me to run to. He made Jason a room in the basement of his house, and put me on the second floor, beside his room, just so Jason wouldn't hear him getting up at night, and so he wouldn't hear me crying.

He made up a lot of crap about how what he was doing was normal, and that all good girls let their daddies, or grownup men do this. But I could hear in his head that he didn't believe any of that. It wasn't that he felt guilt, 'cause there was no guilt there, even when I did cry, at the beginning. Mostly there was anger in his mind, and a swirling sense of entitlement mixed in with the boozy haze. He'd done the same thing to my Aunt Linda, she was gone too, took her own life. She was the strong one.

He'd come into my room at night, slide up the nightgowns he made me wear and he'd touch me, between my legs, often smelling at his fingers after he did it. As I said, I cried a bit at the beginning, but it only made him nastier, and he'd threaten to beat me if I said a word to anyone. He smacked me a few times, just to prove his point, and then lie to the teachers who asked about the bruises, and there weren't many. He told them I was clumsy, they had no trouble believing him, they already thought I must be slow, when they thought of me at all.

I learned to be quiet.

When he'd make me touch him and rub him I learned to go to a little room in my mind. It was small, wood paneled, with a fireplace that crackled. I inhaled the wood smoke and forced myself to smell it, so I didn't have to smell the mothballs on Uncle Bartlett's clothing. I built up that little room piece by piece, every night he came into my room and locked the door behind himself. To this very day if I smell mothballs I have to throw up, there's no stopping it.

When I turned twelve he started making me kiss it and put it into my mouth. I kept some vicks vapo rub in my bedside drawer so I could smear it all over my nose after he left. He'd bought it for Jason, when he'd had a chest cold, I'd stolen it from Jason's bathroom. Nobody noticed.

That really was it, nobody noticed. All the signs were there. Quiet, withdrawn, grades falling. Losing weight, pale, loss of interest in things that I used to love to do. I was afraid of everything, shrank away if anyone raised their voice, whether it was directed towards me or not. Bruises, stupid excuses for them, and a haunted look that greeted everyone, even me, when I looked in the mirror.

I got my period when I was fourteen. Uncle Bartlett's thoughts began to change. I think he figured that I was a woman now, and he had new ideas about what he was entitled to do to me now. Apparently he'd been holding his depravity back, and was quite pleased with himself for his restraint. I still shake when I think of that first thought in his head, about taking my virginity, technically only, and pushing that wrinkled, foul piece of flesh into my body to do me properly.

His hand on my doorknob set me to sweating and shaking that night. The pictures were more than evil, but I don't even have a word for what they were. I was lying there on my bed, staring at him wide eyed like a possum caught in the headlights of his old pickup. Nothing about my terror ever made him think twice. He began to undo the belt on his pants and I started screaming. Even when he hit me in the face I wouldn't stop, blood from my nose streaming onto my lips. I heard Jason's footsteps pounding on the stairs up to my room, yelling my name. He probably saved my life that night, not that he knew it.

The glare I got from Uncle Bartlett could have frozen blood; it froze mine.

"She's just had a nightmare Jason, it's okay." He called out, without opening the door. He knew he'd have no way of explaining away my bloody nose. He did up his pants and stepped away from me.

"Clean yourself up girl." He left.

As I sat there, tears streaming down my cheeks, knees huddled to my chest I tasted my own blood seeping into my mouth. The metallic tang gave me some clarity. I knew I had to run.

Well that's about my five dollars worth of internet time here. I can't spend any more money right now. I have to pay my rent. The hotel manager won't take sex from me in exchange anymore. His wife is starting to suspect, not that he told me that, I took it from his head. He used to be really happy with our bargain, but he can't explain the missing money anymore, part of me feels a little better about that. It's just like another part of my life that I've wrapped up. I have some more stuff to unload here so I'll keep working, and I'll talk to you all soon.

Sook.


	2. Chapter 2

Well thanks for coming back to read the next installment of Sookie's Story. It's been great to try to channel her this way and I hope you like where she's gone this week.

Merick

Sorry it's been a few days; it's been hard to get motivated to keep typing this. Not that I've forgotten what happened to me, and all, but I just haven't really let myself think about it in a long while. I try not to think about much if I can help it. I watch a lot of TV to keep my mind from wandering down the dark paths, and I sleep. Sometimes I even dream, sometimes they aren't nightmares.

I used to fantasize a lot, about getting away from all this, it kept me going that first year on my own, but Pretty Woman is just a movie, and reality hit me pretty square in the chest, pretty fast. But I don't want to get ahead of things too much. Let me go back to when I left Bon Temps for good.

Jason had football practice after school. I always went out to watch him. Uncle Bartlett would watch too, maybe not the whole thing, but he'd always be there after it was done to drive us both home. I'd usually take my bike to school, so he'd throw it in the back of his pickup, and I'd sit between him and Jason, looking out the front window, listening to my uncle praise Jason's prowess, and ask about how things were going for him.

Jason had a lot of girlfriends then; it sure helped being the quarterback and all. I think Uncle Bartlett liked that too, they'd come round the house, and he'd make excuses, like doing the laundry, or looking for something in the cold room to go downstairs where Jason's room was. I got it out of his head that he liked to hear Jason having sex with the girls, and he liked it better when he accidently walked in on them making out on the old leather couch he'd put down there for Jason to use.

That last day I didn't go to practice. I knew Jason wouldn't miss me, he'd be too busy on the field to see if I'd made it to the stands or not. I hoped that that would be one of the practices that Uncle Bartlett would be late for. I guess it must have been. My lucky day I suppose.

I pedaled my bike out of town, on the only route I knew and headed for the highway. I figured Shreveport would be far enough away, and big enough that I could hide from anyone who might look for me. I had no idea how really far away it was, measured on a bicycle at least. I looked at my watch every five minutes it seemed, trying to figure out in my head when I would be missed, and how far I must have gone, and the noise of every truck sent me rushing into the ditch to hide. After an hour, by which time practice was certainly over, I had used up every ounce of strength my legs had, and I had to stop biking and just walk as the shakes made my legs feel like rubber. Bit I kept myself pointed down that highway, just waiting for a sign to say Shreveport City Limits. It was a long time coming.

I heard another truck coming and I made to hide back down along the side of the road, but I was tired by then, and not moving so fast anymore and the driver saw me, and stopped when I disappeared from view. At first I think he was confused by seeing a girl walking her bike on the side of the highway, and then he thought maybe I'd fallen over and hurt myself, I heard the door open and I kind of freaked out, not knowing what to do.

"You okay miss?" He called down over me.

"Yeah." I squeaked back, not making eye contact with him. I just wanted him to go away, he was costing me time, and it was still hours until dark.

"What are you doing out here?"

"I'm on my way to Shreveport sir."

"Shreveport? That's going to be a long walk." I saw into his mind just how far it was, he figured he'd have another hour of driving just to get there. My heart sank and I couldn't stop the tears from welling up in my eyes, there was no way I was going to make it all that way before Uncle Bartlett found me, or the sheriff did. By now Uncle Bartlett must have realized I was gone, and he'd have to tell someone. Damn! How could I have been so stupid to think I was going to get away? I felt the shakes starting in my chest and the tears overflowed my eyes and began to run down my cheeks.

"Hey missy, you don't need to cry."

I finally looked up at the man who'd stopped to check on me. His hair was salt and pepper brown, more pepper than salt actually. And he was wearing work coveralls, his name, Mike, was stitched over the left breast pocket. The truck behind him was newer than most of the one's I'd seen 'round Bon Temps, which meant he probably wasn't a local, so he didn't know me from Adam. He smelled vaguely of tar or creosote, not that I knew much about those things, but the railways tracks always smelled of that and Jason had told me what it was.

"I'm sorry." I blurted out, "I just really thought I could get to Shreveport tonight." I had to catch my breaths from the sobs. I was either going to end up in Jail for running away or back at Uncle Bartlett's where he'd beat the hell out of me, and probably take what it was he so desperately wanted. I just couldn't let that happen.

"I'm heading out to Shreveport myself, I could give you a lift if you want?"

"Oh God, yes please sir." I could see in his mind that he was pretty sure I was running away, but he didn't quite know what to do about it just then. I was willing to take the chance, even if it only got me a few more miles down the road and away from Bon Temps.

"I'll put your bike in the back, you hop up into the cab missy."

He hoisted up my bike and laid it down on the truck bed, between a few big tool boxes, I scrambled into the passenger side of the bench seat and scooted down a bit so I'd be harder to see from the window. He got in the other side, did up his belt and started on down the highway again. I can't say what I felt was relief, but it was enough that I was able to dab away the tears and to stop crying.

"What's your name?" He asked softly, not looking at me.

"Grace." I told him. I don't know where the name came from, maybe just a prayer in my subconscious that I might actually be owed a little from God for everything I'd suffered.

"Well Grace," he continued as if it was the most normal thing in the world to have a teenage stranger in the passenger seat of his truck, "why are you heading to Shreveport?"

"I have family there." I lied.

"They expecting you?"

"Yes."

"You sure you aren't running away from home?"

My heart stopped and I cast out to read his mind again. He was staring to wonder if he should be getting involved with a runaway, wondering if he could get into legal trouble for it. And there was something else, thoughts I was way to familiar with.

"Please sir, can't you just take me to Shreveport?" I sounded pitiful, I knew it, I felt it.

"I think maybe I should just turn the truck around and take you back home little Grace."

"Please. I can make it worth your while." Those were his words, not mine, I pulled them right out of his head, because that was what he wanted to hear from me. He was living out some porn movie fantasy in his mind right then. I slid a trembling hand up into his lap. He moaned softly.

"I'm not sure." He tried to stammer out. "I could get into a lot of trouble." I felt the tears returning and I clicked off my seatbelt so I could slide closer to him.

Please don't judge me for what I did next. Some of you are probably saying 'but Sookie, you were running away from the abuse, how could you just give into it so fast?'. Well, I just knew that whatever hell I was about to put myself through was nothing compared to the hell that would be waiting for me back in Bon Temps. He took one hand off the wheel and slid down the zipper at the front of his coveralls, right down to his waist. He didn't seem to care that my hands were shaking, or that my face was wet with tears as he pulled himself free from his shorts and drug my hand over to touch him.

I knew what he wanted and so I gave it to him. I put my mind into my little room and I kissed him and licked him and fondled him till he pushed a handkerchief into my hand so I wouldn't make a mess of his clothes. He knew he wouldn't be able to explain that to his wife. Then I finished him off, I won't go into the details, they don't really matter. He tucked himself back into his shorts, threw the fabric out the window and I settled back into my seatbelt, shrinking myself down as far as I could because I felt worthless, less than worthless. I kept the tears quiet for the next twenty miles or so. At least I was going in the right direction.

After ten minutes of silence, give or take, he finally looked over at me. I tried really hard to smile at him, but it didn't work, my mouth just wouldn't do it no matter how hard I tried. All he saw was misery and his little letter to Penthouse balloon kind of burst.

"How old are you?"

"I'm fourteen." He went real pale then because he knew he was going to jail if he ever got caught, and suddenly all the things that should have been front and center in his mind before he whipped it out to ask a fourteen year old for a blow job came crashing in. His wife would leave him and take the kids, he'd lose his job, he'd go to prison as a sex offender. He started to panic.

"Look," he said, trying to keep his voice steady, "I'm kind of hungry, what say I get you a hamburger?"

"Thank you, that would be really nice." I was starving then, food was one thing I hadn't been able to pack. Well, one of many things. He pulled into a roadside gas station with a drive through and ordered us both burgers and fries, and he even got me a milkshake. His guilt and fear were overwhelming. I stopped poking into his head. I knew then that he wasn't about to turn me in, and that he would deny ever having seen me, just to protect his own ass. So it seemed that I was going to make it to Shreveport after all.

He dropped me and my bike off right downtown and drove away without looking back. He was going to get drunk. Me, I didn't know where I was going. I felt sick to my stomach, simply out of nerves and I just started walking and looking around at the buildings, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. I must have looked quite the sight, school backpack, old red bike, looking every bit the out of place girl that I felt. Something out there, maybe fate, maybe my fairy godmother, led me around the right corner and I found a church that had a shelter out in one of the back buildings. I hadn't really recognized it for what it was, but when I walked by an older woman, with these beautiful almond shaped eyes, called me over, asking if I needed a place to rest for a while.

She didn't ask me any questions besides would I like to lock up my bike in the back shed, and did I have a coat. Yes to the first, no to the second. She took me inside and made me some tea, church ladies seem to be good with tea, and she showed me where the bathroom, was and a little dorm if I wanted to put my pack down for the night. She was nice, and never once asked me if I wanted her to call my parents to pick me up. She just seemed to know that that wasn't an option for me. The way she looked at me, it was like she could stare right into my soul, straight through my eyes. It wasn't scary though, as you might think it would be, it was sort of comforting. I guess that was the whole 'being in church' thing.

Once the sun went down I actually felt safe, it was as if the dark meant I was home free somehow, like in the old kids games, 'all the all the outs in free', or whatever the right chant was. I don't recall much of my childhood, probably because I didn't have much of one to recall. For that first night, for some reason, I slept soundly, it was probably just the exhaustion, but under the roof of that church, with the almond eyed lady watching over us all, I had no dreams and no fears that someone was going to invade my sleep. No one touched me and no one came to find me.

When the sun came up I got nervous again and I spent the day hiding in the shadows. The irony was not lost on me even then, I think it's irony, I didn't get to that in English classes before I left school, bear with me. It used to be that the sunlight was a refuge, you couldn't hide anything in the sun, and in public Uncle Bartlett left me completely alone; in fact you'd have hardly known he was my guardian the way he ignored me. But in the dark I was his little toy, and every shadow concealed the disgusting acts. His whole brain was dark actually, one shadow after another, each deeper and more perverted than the next. But the whole thing went topsy turvey after I ran. It was the days that offered the danger to me, the chance I would be recognized, the chance he would find me, and so the only thing the sun hid was me. The nights were my playground, and have stayed that way, though playground isn't probably the best word. I wasn't scared of them anymore, the nights gave me freedom, and because I was small they gave me the chance to explore, unmolested. Forgive the word choice, but it was true. It was easy to sneak around, and to uncover things and find out what my new world held. It wasn't all good, but it wasn't all bad either.

I stayed at the church for about a week, the almond eyed lady found me a new backpack, one that was bigger and got me a bunch of clothes out of the donation bin. I started to get nervous about staying any longer and so I moved on from there. My explorations had found a few abandoned houses that other kids hung out at, and I guess I was just odd enough that they didn't mind me joining them sometimes. Most of them were pretty stoned at night; they probably just didn't notice me. I left my bike at the church, I told them to give it someone who needed it more than me, the lady said she'd keep it safe for when I came back for it. It's probably still there.

And that's how I got out of Bon Temps and ended up here.


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3

Love doesn't make the world go round, money does, because money can buy you happiness, and pleasure and even love sometimes. Maybe I sound cynical, I probably do, but after four years out here I don't have dreams anymore, not ones of hope at any rate. I dream, sure, everyone does but I dream of other things. No more Prince Charming, no more lucky breaks, no, I dream of letting it all go, finally getting some peace in my soul, finally not having to drag myself out of bed every day to face the same miserable future. I want it all to be quiet, finally. I just want it to be over.

So I have to get all this out of my soul. It's my confession. And may God forgive me what I've done. I'm not asking for forgiveness for those who've done unto me, so he better forgive me for being petty too, because there are a lot of people I hope get to see the fires of hell when they pass. I guess I better add 'forgive me my vindictiveness' to my list. It's been a bad week, can you tell?

So where was I? I'd left the church and was crashing in one of the old houses I'd mentioned earlier. It was safer, cops didn't know about all the houses, the shelters; well they could check those for runaways, and there was probably some kind of rule about having to report kids, I don't know. By crashing I meant hiding and sleeping away most of the day, my head on my backpack and my coat stretched out over me for a blanket. I went out at night, picked up free refills on coffee with the McDonalds cups I found, the boy behind the counter thought I had a cute ass, and when his manager was in the back he'd fill it up, with lots of milk and sugar. A couple of times he gave me the salads that had expired instead of throwing them out like he was supposed to. I'd stuff them in my pack and smile at him, and run before anyone saw us. His name was Remy, he spoke with a Cajun accent that made me smile, it was just different enough from Bon Temps accents that it felt safe. It's odd what things trigger memories. Sometimes I go back to McDonalds even now, and order those salads. Remy is gone, but I remember him.

I knew I was going to need money in order to survive, and I knew the easiest way to get it. There were lots of men out there, and listening in to the other girls who crashed at the same house, I knew which streets to hit. They did it for drugs. I just wanted to buy a real meal, maybe a pair of shoes, maybe enough for a motel so I could sleep in a real bed and have a proper shower. But there was one thing, one little piece of control I needed to have first. My body was going to be mine, and I wasn't gonna lose my virginity to some john. That last little piece of my innocence was mine to dispose of, with someone I chose, not someone who chose me. Not that my choices were that vast.

There was a boy. He smiled at me sometimes when I came in with my McDonalds food, and he didn't mind that I was all quiet and everything. He liked to talk about things, and he liked that I listened. He called himself Kai, but I knew his real name was Peter. He liked to use one of the bedrooms in the house, he'd been there the longest so he kind of had dibs on the privacy, but others usually followed him in 'cause he had weed and he shared. I kind of cuddled myself up to him one night, and when he passed the joint around I took a drag. The smoke was warm in my chest. Uncle Bartlett had smoked, so I was used to inhaling it and I didn't cough like some newbie. I didn't know how it was supposed to make you feel, when you smoked a joint. I didn't feel anything different. I figured I'd done it wrong. But that wasn't the point.

Kai got all friendly as the drug got into his system and he wrapped his arm around me as I sat beside him, and he started rubbing my shoulder. It was nice, kind of tender. I guess it was the nicest way anyone had ever touched me; except maybe that almond-eyed lady from the church who had hugged me when I left. She felt comfortable, and comforting. Is that the same thing? I hope you understand what I'm trying to say.

Kai's eyes (wow that sounds really dumb when I say it out loud), got all doey looking after he finished the joint. And he leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. He seemed really happy with himself, and, the joint now being gone, the two other boys in the room with us wandered out. As I think back, that could have gone really bad for me if they'd decided to all take a turn. But they didn't, I guess their highs put them in a different place. Now alone, Kai started to nuzzle at my neck and I finally turned my head to let him kiss me on the mouth. He started running his hands under my shirt. I froze for a moment, then forced myself to relax. I had no illusions that it was going to be magical, but it was going to be with my consent. That was the only power I had.

He was kind of sloppy, but he got me onto my back, and I reached out to pull his body down to mine. He pulled off his shirt and kinda urged me to take mine off too, which I did. He ran his hands over me and kissed me a few more times, then, figuring he'd done enough in terms of foreplay, he slid off my pants and underwear with my help; he was still stoned. I helped him get his own jeans off, that studded belt was a bit tricky, and then to roll the condom onto himself. Then he was inside me, no fanfare, no magical 'ahhh' moment, and he was working against me, breathing hard as I tried to find the pleasure in the act. At least his actions didn't hurt me. He was my age, my size, and inexperienced, so he was actually gentle. When he came he got this really happy look on his face, and he kissed me again on the mouth. Then he rolled over and fell asleep.

I guess it wasn't the worst way I could have done it. In fact, if I look at it in terms of everything else I've been through, it was actually gentle and tender. If it means anything to you to hear, I didn't come. I wasn't in it for the orgasm; sex has never meant that for me. It's just been about getting to the end.

After that, it was easy.

Well, no, it wasn't easy. I cried a lot, when I was alone, and I got hurt, tore up and beat up sometimes. I'm not going to tell you about every john, but I'm gonna tell you how I built my little room up, panel by panel into a haven that kept me alive; at least physically alive, for a long time. Things are gonna get mixed up here because I've got so much to tell, and I don't know if it's gonna come out in the right order. Well, it probably won't because I'm tying to type as things come to me. Before I hit the 'post' button I'll go back and read it, and I'll add notes if I've made things too confusing.

There were some streets, just back from the Riverfront Casinos in Shreveport; I took the bus over as soon as the sun went down. It was summer by then, so it wasn't cold out at all, but I felt frozen. The bus ride was an exercise in growing terror and my legs felt like lead with every step; off the bus, down the street, away from any shred of innocence that I might have had left. I'm sure I looked like a white mouse out there, on the corner, watching the cars, looking into the minds of the drivers who slowed down to check me out. I didn't even feel like a piece of meat, I felt sub-human and I tried so hard not to let it show in my face.

It was early, before the regular girls came out. I had hoped to just get it done and over with before anyone saw me. I was ashamed but I didn't feel like I had any choice, or any right to question back then. I was broken, I can't think of a better word.

The first man came by in a blue car, I don't remember much about it except that he circled the block twice before slowing down and rolling down his window.

"Hi?" He called out to me, barely loud enough for me to hear it, even though I was the only one around.

"Hi." I answered back.

"You waiting for someone?"

I turned up the right corner of my mouth and answered him, because I knew what he wanted to hear; one of the distinct advantages to being a telepath, and one I used a great deal.

"I was waiting for you."

"Did you want to get in? Go for a drive?"

"Yeah, I'd like that."

And with that brief exchange I found myself in the passenger seat of the blue car. He made a show of driving around for a few minutes while he asked me my name; Grace, and offered his, Michael. Then he screwed up his courage; it was funny that he was nearly as scared as I was, and asked if I wanted to go back to his motel room.

I think they call it 'off the strip', and that's where we went, a bank of thirty or so rooms in a long line, back and front, with an office and a few vending machines in the middle of the row. He unlocked the door and I followed him inside.

"You're really pretty." He offered as he turned on the lights and closed the curtains.

"Thanks."

"Could I see you without your shirt on?"

I took it off. That got him excited.

"What about your pants?"

I slid them off too, and trembling, sat down on the bed and watched as he took off his shirt and tossed it away. I lay down on the bed and he slid off his pants.

"Can you take off the rest of your clothes Grace?"

I put myself somewhere else then, and first slid my arms out of my bra, and then slid down my panties. I couldn't look him in the eyes after that, but it was worse looking down because I saw his penis straining against his underwear. When he slipped the waistband down it kind of bobbed out, all springy-like. It might have even been funny if I hadn't been so focused on keeping myself from looking terrified.

I guess you can figure out what happened from there. He pushed himself inside me, I screamed a bit to myself only and then I went into that little room of mine while he was doing his thing, I worked on the Persian rug. It took me a long time to get the colors just right, and then to arrange them in the woven pattern, alternating the cream and the burgundy with gold threads. When it was done I put it in front of the fireplace.

When he was done he gave me a handful of bills and then drove me back to the place he'd picked me up, after I'd tidied up in the bathroom; the hot water was really nice, and so were the towels, a bit threadbare in spots, but soft just the same. I got out of the car, and waited until he'd driven off before I ran into an alley and threw up the nothing I had in my stomach, crying the whole time with the dry heaves as they wracked my body and my mind understood the truth of what I had just done. The numbness I'd been holding in place collapsed with the bile.

I didn't even count how much he'd given me until I was back on the bus, putting that street behind me. Forty-seven dollars. I don't know that it made it worthwhile, but I went and bought a real ham sandwich, and a bottle of coke, and a bag of peaches. I'd eaten five before I even got back to the house. I shared the rest with the kids who were there; they'd given me the bus fare after all. A full stomach made me feel better, and for the rest of the night at least, I didn't think about having to go back.

So now I want to say just a couple more things that came to mind; not really about me, and what I went through, but what a lot of people go through when they end up on the streets. Just something for you to think about in this odd quest of mine to make life just a little better for someone else. It's my penance I guess.

Hospitals are great places to get yourself cleaned up if you are stuck without a home and a shower. During the day there are hundreds of visitors, and all the common areas, like the food courts have handicapped washrooms. The security guards figure you're supposed to be there, visiting or going to an appointment during the day, so if you walk like you belong they don't harass you. So you go into one of the handicapped washrooms, the sinks are lower so someone in a wheelchair can use them, and there's loads of hot water and soap, so you can just gear down and get cleaned up, even rinse out things if you have a plastic bag to put them in. Sure, there are only paper towels, but sometimes there are those hot air dryers, so you can even dry your hair. It's not as nice as a towel but it works. In five to ten minutes you can almost feel human again.

The other thing I want to say is about making donations of stuff to charities that take it out to homeless people. It's so awesome that you bundle your old clothes and stuff that doesn't fit or that you haven't worn in ages, it makes all the difference sometimes to get a warm coat or a shirt with all the buttons, but spare a thought for something else. Feminine hygiene products are really expensive, and there's nothing that destroys your dignity more than having to wad up a ball of toilet tissue or napkins into your underwear for a week out of every month. So, next time you put that bag together, can you toss in a box of pads, maybe even some deodorant, and shampoo too. It'll make a real difference for someone out there, and maybe just make them feel a tiny bit more human.

That's all I'll say about that then.


	4. Chapter 4

This is going to be disturbing, I just wanted to warn you. Please don't write me notes afterwards, this is supposed to be raw, and honest, and bad experiences with John's are part of it. It happens at the end, please stop before that if you are uncomfortable with role play and with spanking.

(Or did that just make you want to read more?)

Merick

Part 4

I remember the day when I finally stopped being afraid of going out into the light. It was September, the day I would have been going back to school if I'd stayed in Bon Temps, and if Uncle Bartlett hadn't killed me by then. It was like some kind of milestone I guess, like I'd really left that old life behind. If they hadn't found me by then, to drag me back, then they weren't going to be trying anymore. I don't know where the logic of that came from, but it gave me a little measure of peace. It might have also had to do with looking at myself in the mirror and missing that beautiful tan I always had after summer. I always used to be so brown. I'd stay outside from sun up till way past sun down in the summer. Jason was home, and so I got to tag along with him sometimes when he went swimming or into town. I looked and felt alive in the summer. There were invitations out to church suppers for the 'generous man' who'd taken in his great niece and nephew after 'the tragedy', and fairs from the service clubs, fireworks, and outings with neighbors, every minute that kept me away from that house and that bedroom was a lifetime of happiness. I'd missed it all that summer in Shreveport, hiding in the shadows. And when I looked at myself in the mirror I was pale, and it only made my lips stand out more against the whiteness, and made my blue eyes stare, even more haunted, back at me in the mirror. I was thin too, I didn't eat well, I ate what came along, none of it really healthy. I lost weight, not that I'd had a scale to measure it by, I could just tell, looking at the bones in my face and my hands. I looked like a vampire, hell, I even acted like a vampire. I was aware of them then, they'd come 'out of the coffin', and the kids would talk about them, wanting to meet one, aspiring to be like them, all without a real clue of what they were all about. I didn't know any better. Once I got a TV I educated myself a bit about the truth of them, but back then it was fangs and blood, and all manner of myth. I've never seen one that I know of. They didn't come down to the streets I worked. I didn't figure they'd ever have to pay for sex, they were supposed to be so beautiful, and they could charm anyone into doing stuff for them, at least that's what I was told.

By then, since it had been a few months, I was making enough money to every week to mostly afford a motel. Since I was still young I had to find a real nasty one, where the manager didn't give me any trouble. Sadly, it wasn't as hard as you might have thought. I think I mentioned it before, some men will look the other way for the attentions of a young woman. And it helped on those weeks, especially the rainy ones, when business wasn't so good. I worked on some furniture for the room, did I mention the wing chair before? Let me check. Okay I scrolled up, not that you probably noticed the pause, why would you? I built a chair, a big leather wingback in ox-blood with metal rivets around the front of the armrests, you know the kind, like the ones in the expensive coffee shops and Donald Trump kind of places like cigar bars. I put it in front of the fireplace, with my Persian rug in front of it. I thought it looked powerful and elegant. Sometimes I sat in it, like Donald Trump would, or as I imagined he would. Those were days when I felt powerful, even though I was flat on my back, being used for someone else's pleasure. I can't explain why some John's were different than others. Some just seemed to be thankful you were with them, like you had chosen them instead of the other way around. More often than not I was curled up in the chair, like a cat, or like an infant, letting it be my protection from what was going on around me. I watched the flames in the fireplace, letting them be my focus while the men pounded themselves against me. It kept me alive.

I got of topic again there, sorry. It was all worth it, just to have that private space for myself. The showers were hot, and the towels, threadbare but clean. They changed the linens every Friday, and the mattress was soft. I even had a TV, though it only got four channels, but it was a window to someplace else. And when I slipped that chain bolt behind myself when I came in at night it was safety. No one came home with me, ever, not even the manager, we used his office, he liked it with me over his desk. That was my first 'apartment'.

About then, because I finally felt free of Bon Temps I started going out. I had always taken one week off every month, the week I got my period. Despite the whole vampire thing I talked about earlier, I was not into the whole blood thing. It was just nasty and I usually felt pretty bloated and crabby. I stayed away from everyone. So, in a weird, twisted kind of way, you could say that the blood gave me freedom; it had forced me out of Uncle Bartlett's clutches, and it forced me to take time away from selling myself, time that I used just for me.

I didn't have money to waste then, so I walked around the parks, there were some nice ones around the riverfront, where the casinos weren't. I especially liked the Oakland Cemetery. Funny thing about cemeteries, when you walk around them during the day, everyone leaves you alone. They just figure that you belong there, that you're going to see someone. At night I imagine it's different, then you're just there to cause trouble, probably why they lock the gates. Oaklands was beautiful, it had been around like a hundred and fifty years so the tombs and monuments were beautiful and white, and peaceful. I could just sit on a bench and enjoy the sun on my face. And no one came up to me and tried to get me to go 'on a date' with them. I looked so forward to those weeks, even when it rained and I just stayed in my room and watched dumb TV and ate hamburgers and french fries.

I never got much self-confidence; don't really know how anyone could doing what I was doing. I guess there was enough to keep going out, night after night, or maybe that was just cowardice? Too scared to live too scared to die.

So I want to tell you about one more John, well, two, but they are sort of connected, and it's important that you know about what happened with them, just so you get a better idea of what goes on in my head, and something else dumb about me that I discovered.

It was wintertime, it doesn't really snow much in Louisiana, but it can get awful cold come December. People don't go looking for company as much when it gets cold out, at least for those first few weeks of a cold spell. Then their nature gets the best of the cold and they come out again. I needed money, and so I did something I shouldn't have, I let my guard down. I was just so happy when that car stopped, I was freezing, it was getting late, and I knew I didn't have enough money for both rent and for food. When he opened that door I jumped in.

He wanted to play, and most of the time that was okay, men almost never gave their real names, but a bunch wanted to be called Brett, and a few Mr. Wayne, and Mr. Stark. I have no idea who they were referring too, I didn't want to get that deep into their heads, it made my own hurt. But this one was different, and because I'd let my guard down, or rather, kept it up I didn't know the full extent of what he wanted till we were back in his motel room and it was too late.

Don't get me wrong, if it had been any girl but me it wouldn't have been an issue, but because it was me, it nearly crippled me. He sat down, heavy, on the side of the standard motel mattress and took up a bottle from the side table and had a gulp of the amber liquid, it was whiskey, I didn't figure that out till later, not that it's really important.

"Come sit in my lap baby." He called to me. I walked over, slowly and did as he asked. He pulled my skirt up as I did it. I could feel that his erection wasn't full yet.

"You know, when you wear skirts the men can see your panties?" That threw me, and then he did, grabbing me around my waist he pushed me over across his knees. "That makes you a very naughty little girl." And he smacked my bottom three times quickly. The sting of his hand brought tears to my eyes.

"And naughty little girls need to be punished." And he dragged my underwear down and smacked me again on my bare flesh.

"Tell your Daddy that you are going to be good from now on." He ordered. The words stuck in my throat, even as I fought to keep the tears from running down my cheeks.

"I'm sorry Daddy, I'll be good." I felt like I was going to throw up.

With one ham sized hand, he held me down, and with the other he took another drink. I tried not to squirm but all I wanted to do was run, I didn't care about the cold anymore, or the money, I just wanted to get away. He smacked me again, and then jammed a finger deep inside me.

"This place is just for me." He thrust it in and out of me, and I felt the bulge in his pants begin to get hard.

"Yes Daddy." I cried out.

"Get up on the bed, I need to finish your punishment." He let me sit up, not noticing my reddened cheeks, or the fear in my eyes. I started to lay down on the bed, but he stopped me. "On your knees, naughty girl." He forced me onto all fours, and positioned himself behind me. I felt wet fingers drag down between my legs, and them I felt him rub himself against me, and then it was his cock that was thrust into me roughly.

As he did his thing he continued to slap my bottom, and finally another hand pushed against my shoulders, forcing them into the bed, and opening me up to him even further. I cried out with each thrust, and my tears soaked the stale bedspread. He thought my shaking and my cries were part of the game, he thought I was amazing, I was doing everything he wanted me to do, acting exactly like I was supposed to, his naughty schoolgirl. He had no idea how he was killing me. I couldn't even escape to my room, it brought back every evil thing Uncle Bartlett had done, it all just played over in my mind like a horror movie and I couldn't look away. When he was finally done with me, he had this leer on his face that made me want to puke. And when he went to the bathroom to clean up I grabbed that bottle off his table, every bill in his wallet and my coat, and I ran, and I kept running, till I saw the first taxi that would stop. I had him take me home. Where I actually did throw up.

Now I was more than just a whore, I was also a thief, and would you believe that it weighed on me even more than selling my body, the fact that I had stolen from him? I was so messed up. I ran the hottest bath I could stand, and submerged myself in it, despite the raw feeling on my skin and between my legs. I took a huge gulp of the whiskey and felt it burn from the inside as I scrubbed at myself with the soap and cried.

The whiskey burn stopped after the forth or fifth swallow. But it took me twice as long to realize that I wasn't getting drunk. And right then I wanted so desperately to be dunk, so I could just be numb for awhile. I flung the bottle in anger against the cinder block wall of my crappy motel room and cried myself to sleep.

I'd taken $273 from him, plus the alcohol. I felt like shit. I have to stop, I'm sorry, I have to get away from here for a bit.

I promise I'll come back.


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks for your patience, I hope you enjoy Sookie's words.

Part 5

I'm really sorry to have left you guys hanging like that. I said I was going to tell you about two men and I barely got out the story of the first before it all just felt overwhelming and I had to stop. I hadn't thought of those memories in a really long while. I've gotten really good at not remembering things, or at least not dwelling on them anymore. But back then, that first year, it crippled me. And just now, with everything that's happened, and everything that has come back, it really knocked me in the gut. I guess blogging about it made it seem real again. Don't I sound all savvy and knowledgeable there eh?

At any rate, I'm back. And here's what happened next.

I spent as many days as I could locked up in that crappy motel room. I cleaned up the broken glass, and cried, and stared at a blank TV for I don't know how many hours, there might have been something on it, but I wasn't really seeing anything. I was just paralyzed. I don't even think I remembered to eat. But when I needed to pay for another week I had to go out again, and most every man I looked at scared me half to death. It was so hard to shut it all out, the memories that is. I was really afraid that I wasn't going to be able to do it again, and that I was going to end up back on the street. I don't know why I was so afraid of that, I think maybe it was just the concept, and the cold that had me so frightened, it was kind of like a boogey man I guess. I'd finally gotten myself shelter, and to lose it was more than a step backwards, it just seemed like an insurmountable failure. It was so hard to keep from freaking out entirely there on the corner, hiding from the men. Finally there was this really meek guy who came around. He had a nice car; well, nice for what I was used to seeing; rusty hatchbacks and pickup trucks. I reached out to his mind, and I really dug in there, and I didn't find anything devious, beyond the illegal drug he was carrying in a small vial in his shirt pocket. A drug he hadn't tried before, but one that seemingly needed a partner, and I guess that's where I came in. He wasn't looking for a pro, and I was about as scared as he was. He needed the fantasy just then as much as I did.

I'd heard of the drug before, the girls talked about it, they called it V. It was vampire blood. And it was supposed to give you an amazing high, but all sexy-like, and take you away from wherever you were, and make you see happy things. It sounded like just what I needed, an escape, even if it did mean drinking blood, which was just creepy to me. I got in the four-door when he slowed down and smiled at me and I clicked on the seatbelt, and let Mr. Meek guy drive me back to his hotel.

He offered me a soda when I got inside; that was nice, his momma had taught him manners. And he hung up my coat, kinda like I was a real date or something. He even turned on the little clock radio beside the bed so the static top forty filled the silence. He sat down beside me on the bed, pulled out the vial, and looked at me. Of course he didn't know that I already knew he had it. It was good that I didn't look shocked; it made him feel at ease talking to me about it.

"You okay with this?" His eyebrows pleaded with me a bit, I could tell he was so afraid that I was going to ruin what so far had been going quite well for him.

"Yeah." I said, all soft like. He smiled at me, and I could just feel the emotions rolling off him, he seemed so grateful. I remember that because it was the first time I'd ever felt like someone was happy I was around; happy in a good way, not in a creepy Uncle B way. (You know, I'm just gonna write that from now on, I don't type so fast, and I need to get this all out, I'm running out of time.)

"You done it before?" He asked me. The rural accent would have made most folks feel at ease, I didn't have many good memories of that accent. I shook my head.

"Me neither. But it's okay, my friends do it all the time." He tried to look reassuring; it was almost cute. "You just take a little bit on the end of your finger and then lick it off." He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. I wasn't the first girl he'd been with, but I was his first 'anonymous fuck'. I got the impression that term came from his friends, not him, but it popped into his mind. He looked a bit more the church going type than the casual sex kinda guy. But I knew he wasn't going to hurt me, he just wanted to try it, and didn't want anyone around who could remind him of the experience later, good or bad. He poured a drop out of the tiny vial onto his first finger, holding it in front of himself and looked at me. I smiled and kissed the little pearl so it would coat my lips, then I drew it into my mouth by rolling my lips like I was putting on gloss. I thought he might faint, watching me. I watched as he did the same for himself, waiting for the effect to take me away. But it never did.

He, on the other hand, he got all dreamy looking after taking the blood, and started to undress me, then himself, really slowly, I played along at his pace, waiting for my high. But just like the joint and the whiskey, it never came. I began to wonder then if there was something else wrong with me, if I just couldn't get 'altered' at all. It was a disappointment to me then, because I had wanted to be outside of myself. But as I look back I find that it was a good thing to have learned so early, because there was never another temptation to try different, harder drugs because I knew they wouldn't work. Or I assumed they wouldn't. For four years I haven't had a drink or a smoke or anything else. Sometimes I regretted it, not being able to hide that way, but I guess I had my own V, my little room where I would go. And in the end it was healthier for me.

Oh, and Mr. Meek, he was gentle, like Kai had been, and kissed me a lot, and touched me, and didn't leave me with any scars. I left him, just falling asleep in his bed, after he'd invited me to stay the night. I didn't. He paid well. I paid my rent. It was all good. And I learned, and that is why I wanted to tell you about him.

Time kind of just passed after that. I'm not going to go into every john, I think I said that before too. I got better at avoiding harm, not that I didn't get knocked around once in awhile, and come home with bruises. I tried really hard to dig into the men's minds, but sometimes their ideas changed on a dime, and what started out looking safe ended up with purple splotches around my upper arms where they'd hold me down, or cut lips. But they paid, and I decorated my room, wood paneling, brass candlesticks, an afghan to curl up in, and a mirror, a beautiful gilt mirror that I could see myself in, as I should have been, beautiful blond hair, curled around tanned skin, gleaming blue eyes and a perfect smile. That was who I got to be in that room. Not the Grace I was turning into with every passing day in the dark streets. But there was money, and I got a better motel room, and eventually an apartment, all by myself. I learned to cook pasta and make hamburger helper, and I always bought fruit, fresh fruit. For some reason it seemed to make me feel better to have it, and to eat it. It was sweet and crisp and I don't know, it was good. I took a week off every month, and walked around the cemetery, and then I started going to museums, and art galleries, as I was able to put aside enough money for the admissions. I saw movies, and went grocery shopping, and but for the fact that I earned my money letting men fuck me, it was a pretty normal life most of the time. Wow, reading that over just sounds wrong, but I guess I'll leave it there anyways.

That isn't to say that I didn't get depressed. I did, I do. I think I mentioned that I went down to a meeting for abuse survivors once. I actually went a couple of times, and not just for the coffee. I never talked, but I listened. I went to church a few times too, but the priests looked at me oddly, they could tell that I was a whore, and despite their vows and mission to treat all sinners with kindness they had trouble looking me in the eyes. I didn't want people to be uncomfortable around me, so I stopped going. Maybe I wasn't ready to be forgiven.

It was pretty lonely I guess, if you didn't count the being able to read people's minds. I didn't. But when one day kind of bleeds into another, and weeks into weeks and months into months maybe you don't notice so much? Time passed.

So, you're asking yourself, what the hell happened Sookie? Why did it become time to tell your story? Did you have an epiphany? Did your charming Richard Geer come along to wisk you away from your life as a hooker? What then girl?

Jason came to town.

A week ago.

I'd been working my way closer to the casino row for a few months. The money was better, the clientele was better, and the rooms were better. You could work one night and make as much as I used to get in a whole week, just hanging off the arm of some high roller who wanted a trophy. And since I wasn't doing drugs, and I was eating mostly properly, I looked more girlfriend like than crack whore, and so I could get into the bars and wander around. Since I wasn't buying drinks or gambling, no one asked me for ID. I'd smile at the men and see where it got me.

I was sipping a coke at the bar when he came in, he and his friend Hoyt. I remembered Hoyt, he was a good guy, sweet, shy, very different than Jason, but they'd hit it off somehow in school, probably because Hoyt worshipped Jason, and Jason loved the attention. They were both dressed up, as well as any boy from Bon Temps could be. They had ironed shirts and pants, and shoes with laces instead of sneakers. They were looking for ladies; I could hear it coming off their minds before I even turned around to look at them. Or maybe it was the body spray? I should have never turned around.

He met my eyes, and he recognized me the moment he saw me. I watched his jaw drop as he took in the sight of his baby sister, rouged, lipsticked, fake eyelashed, in the shortest black dress that barely covered the swells of my hips, my ass and the full cleavage that had appeared when I turned sixteen.

"Sookie?" The disbelief on his face screamed volumes at me, even without hearing his thoughts. He'd thought I was gone forever, though he'd never let himself imagine what might have actually become of me, or why. That made me so sad. Hoyt wheeled around as he heard Jason's astonished voice and my shame doubled as he saw me too. I wanted to deny it, I wanted to say 'sorry my name's Grace, you must have me mistaken for someone else', but I couldn't. I just stared at him too, and he knew, he knew it all. I turned and ran, nearly knocking over some poor barmaid in the process. I knew the floor better than he did, and it wasn't hard to lose him.

"Sookie? Wait." Were the last words I heard him say, but his mind was processing the reality, and the image that had first been there, of me, a seven year old girl, with a ponytail and denim shorts melted away. Replaced with the whore I had become. The confusion was heartbreaking, and his anger cut me like a blade.

I wanted to be angry with him, I wanted to scream out 'how dare you Jason Stackhouse? How dare you judge me when you couldn't even protect me!' Maybe this blog is partly about that.

Jason? Jason, I ran because no one saw, because no one cared, because not even my own brother realized what was happening to me in Bon Temps. I hated you for that. You were in that house and you didn't even think to question my haunted eyes, my bruises, my tears. Why didn't you see? You were supposed to be my hero, why didn't you see?

It was gone, it was all gone then. Bon Temps had found me. I knew Jason would go home, he'd tell Uncle B he'd seen me, he'd tell the Sheriff, I wondered if it was still Bud Dearborn? He'd come back looking for me. Somebody would, and then everyone would know my secret, know that I'd been selling myself, they wouldn't understand. Their narrow little minds wouldn't even try to make sense of it. I would be the whore, the damaged girl that her Uncle couldn't save. I'd be the gossip of the only bar in town, with the church ladies clucking over me, over their chicken salad and iced teas. I couldn't live knowing that, and I was so ashamed of myself.

So it's time.

The casinos front the Red River, and there's this beautiful big bridge that crosses it, the Red River Bridge; real original, I know, it divides Shreveport from Bossier City. I paid up the last of my rent today, and tidied up my stuff so the landlord wouldn't have to. There isn't any food left in the fridge to spoil, so if they don't get to my place for a few days it won't be so bad to clean up. I took the last of my cash, except the twenty dollars for coffee and Internet time here over to the shelter, the one I stayed at that first night, and I dropped it in the donation box. When I sign off here I'm going to walk over to the bridge, and up it, and just about in the middle I'm going to climb over the railing. It's nighttime, just after midnight, so there isn't as much traffic, and it'll be hard for anyone to stop their car and to stop me, if they even see me. I know I can't take drugs, and I'm not brave enough for a gun. But I can fall. The impact should knock me out and then I'll just drown, or it'll kill me right away and then it won't matter. I probably won't even feel the cold. I'm sorry that someone will have to find my body, but I figure if I go out right to the middle it'll float along farther.

So I just want to say thanks for reading. If you do know me, a little part of me hopes that you feel bad if you ignored what was happening to me. And if you know my Uncle Bartlett, please, don't let him do this to anyone else. If you don't know me, I hope that I've made you think a little bit with my words, so that maybe, heaven forbid, that if you see another little girl like me out there you'll speak up.

Thanks, and goodbye.

Sookie Stackhouse.

**Reviews are love.**

**More to come.**


	6. Chapter 6

Our point of view is now going to start changing; I hope it isn't confusing. But now we need to see what the other players are seeing about Sookie; and about how she sees her changing situation.

Say 'Welcome' to the vampires.

Part 6

The ring and vibration of the cell phone seemed just a bit louder to Bill Compton than normal as he pulled it from the inside pocket of his leather jacket. It was as if he could sense the caller on the other end, and the urgency with which he had dialed. Eric Northman could not generally be described as a patient man, at least not in his business dealings, which were the ones that Bill mostly found himself employed with these days. No, when Eric wanted something done, he normally wanted it done two days ago, which actually suited Bill rather well. His own personality was one that required action to feel worthwhile, as well as self-confidence and force, and when he had the bidding of the sheriff of Area five to back up his sometimes-outrageous requests, things got done. It was all about power; for both of them. The phone came to life with the gliding press of one finger and Bill held it to his ear, anticipating the tone he was about to hear.

"Bill Compton here."

"Bill, she's going to kill herself." Since there were a number of 'she's' in Eric's life, Bill had to ask for clarification.

"The blogger." Eric shouted back. Of course it had to be here. Eric had been following that girl for weeks; he'd actually become somewhat obsessed with her in Bill's estimation. Only a week back he'd asked Bill, who was rather handy with computers, to figure out where she'd been writing her messages from. It hadn't taken Bill more than an hour to find the coffee shop on Texas Street, The Upstairs Café. Eric had even sent him out there after the forth post to see if he could ascertain who the girl was. That had been easy as well. This Stackhouse girl had given him more than enough information to research the missing person's report, and find a photo of the then fourteen year old. She hadn't looked much different when Bill had finally glimpsed her. Blonde, blue eyes, almost pixie-like in her mannerisms, about five foot five. Bill had read the blogs too; in fact he had been the one to have discovered that particular one. He had a familial connection to Bon Temps, so he'd written a program for his computer that flagged him when the name came up in any way, which didn't turn out to be that often. He was more interested in the genealogy and history of the place, but he knew that Eric enjoyed reading blogs, as much as his child Pam enjoyed reading advice columns and so he had mentioned it. Eric Northman, for all his other interests, was a student of the human condition; perhaps mourning the loss of his own. Bill did not take such a great interest in his motivations, only his orders. And he knew there was going to be one forthcoming if the rage in Eric's voice was any indication.

"Go and stop her!"

"And precisely where is she going to do this?" Bill's voice was laced with a bit of annoyance; enough that Eric could hear it and growl in his displeasure. Productive tasks were one thing, but errands to retrieve breathers who were not either sustenance, politically useful, or sexually adventurous were beneath Bill's predilection. But of course, one needed to keep on the good side of one's sheriff if one intended to advance past the backwater of Louisiana to a greater kingdom. Of course, having nothing else pressing, Bill tried to convince himself that there might be a bit of sport in procuring this Sookie Stackhouse for Eric.

"The Red River Bridge. She posted the blog only moments ago. Get over there and stop her from jumping!"

"As you wish Eric." Bill was making to shut off the phone when he heard another order from his boss.

"And for the gods' sakes Bill, don't scare the shit out of her!"

"Of course not." He replied with a twisted sneer on his lips, and shoved the phone back down in his pocket. He slung a leg back over the CVO Fat Bob Harley and kicked it back to life, waving at the ladies he had been deciding between until the call interrupted his train of thought. He pulled his gauntlets back over his hands and turned the bike in the direction of the bridge, loving the sound of the pipes and the vibration of the chassis as he took off down the road.

It only took a few minutes to reach the metal structure that spanned the Red River. In its day the river had been beautiful, but Bill didn't see it the same way any longer. Two hundred years of industry had spoiled it as far as he was concerned. When he'd been young you could have eaten the fish out of it, now, well, besides the fact that he didn't eat anymore, he wouldn't have touched them, if there were any left that was. Pam, Eric's lieutenant had called him a snob once, he hadn't disagreed. In his human life he'd been a landowner, with all its privileges, he had no intention of giving up that status just because he'd been turned. One day he was going to be a Sherriff, and of a better plot of land than Shreveport and its environs, and he was going to surround himself with finery. He couldn't have slaves to do his bidding any longer, but hirelings were nearly as good.

He scanned both sides of the bridge and spotted her very quickly, leaned against the railing at nearly the middle point. Leaving the bike on a boulevard just before the approach ramp he stalked towards her, not that she would have heard him, even if she had been paying attention. She was looking out towards the water, black as it was he couldn't imagine she was really seeing anything. Only when she pushed herself up onto the top of the railing did he act.

"Excuse me?" He said, mindful of Eric's admonishment not to frighten her.

She spun in terror and he feared that she might lose her balance, but she didn't. She let a small scream escape her lips. It was delightful for him to hear.

"Go away!" She yelled at him, the pitiful mewl of her voice put him in the mind of a little girl, and he reminded himself that really that was exactly what she was. Looking at her now, he felt his heart soften just a little bit. Her blond hair was whipping around her face by the breeze up at the top of the bridge, and her cheeks were stained red with tears, the same tears that had made her lips so swollen and appealing. She seemed completely lost, and surprised that he had appeared.

"I can't let you do this." He took a step closer to her.

"Stay where you are!" She yelled at him. Another step and he was certain he could glamour her. He took it.

"Please get down from the edge Sookie."

"How do you know my name?" Strange, he thought to himself, she hadn't moved, perhaps he hadn't caught her eyes quite right. She was staring at him now though, quite frightened at his revelation.

"Please get down from there." He ordered.

"No!"

Well this was terribly odd, in a frustrating; yet appealing way for Bill Compton. He didn't appear to be able to glamour her, that would make the acquisition somewhat more challenging. But of course, Bill did know how to be charming when the occasion called for it and so her softened his gaze. And failing that, he knew he could certainly overpower her.

"Please Sookie, reconsider this?" He put on the captivating southern voice he used for the ladies he brought to his bed.

"How do you know my name?" She demanded again.

"I found your blog. And my employer is quite taken with you. He would never forgive me if I let you go through with this before he had a chance to speak with you himself." That was the truth; Eric was not particularly forgiving when his employees failed him. The string of bartenders that had made their way through Fangtasia was evidence of that. So far Bill had not failed in any task, and he was quite proud of that fact.

"Please go away." Her resistance was wearing down.

"I can't. Please Miss Stackhouse, just come down from there and let me talk to you. I just want a moment of your time, and then I'll leave you, if that's what you want." He put the most contrite look on his face that he could muster and it seemed to work, she slid down, back to the asphalt and looked over at him.

"What do you need to say?"

"Give me one night, or rather, give my employer one night to speak with you."

"He wants to talk with me?"

"Yes, that's all. Just talk with you."

"Why didn't he come then?"

"I was closer. He sent me. He read your last posting and became concerned."

"I didn't think anyone was really reading them." She sniffled.

"Please Miss Stackhouse." Bill held out his hand, she did not take it, wrapping herself within her own arms instead, as if she was cold.

"Who is your employer?"

"His name is Eric Northman, he is the Sherriff of Area 5."

"The what?" Bill was surprised that Sookie did not know what that was, but his generally insular world did not often interact with normal breathers.

"He is the Vampire Sherriff of Area 5."

"He's a vampire?" The girl's voice got shrill again.

"So am I." Bill offered.

"Oh god." It looked to Bill as if she was going to faint, and throwing aside his condition of not scaring her; he darted to her side and grabbed her up by the arms.

She screamed again, staring at him in terror.

"Please Sookie. Meet my employer, talk with him for only as long as you wish and then I promise you that he will leave you unharmed. I will even ensure that you are returned to this very spot if that is what you desire. But," he let the word hang for a moment. "Being a vampire means that I can offer you a better way."

"To what?" She was so blissfully innocent that Bill found a stirring of desire to have her himself.

"If you wish to die, I can make it very easy for you. If you jump from this bridge you will feel a great deal of pain when you hit the water. It will likely break many of your bones, and you will be helpless as your lungs fill with water and you drown gasping for breath. It will be cold and terrifying. My way is easier."

Her gasp was almost musical to his ears.

"I can help you to sleep, by taking your blood slowly so that you drift away never to wake up. If it is what you want." Right then it was exactly what Bill wanted, being so close to her he could smell the blood in her veins and it was most intoxicating.

"How can I trust you?" She whispered.

"Because if I wanted to harm you I could have done it by now." He tightened his grip just marginally, not enough to hurt, or terrorize her, but enough to make his point.

"How do I meet him then?" And he had her.

"If you will permit me to make a phone call?" He let go of her and pulled out his blackberry again. She nodded, rubbing her arms where he had held her.

"Hello, yes Eric, she is safe. Which hotel would you like? Yes. Yes. I'll inform her."

He turned back to her, knowing that she had not moved an inch from where he had released her.

"Eric will be sending a taxi for you, he would very much like it if you would take that taxi to the Hilton hotel. There will be a room waiting for you if you go to the desk. Order anything you like from room service." Bill looked over her Target fashions and added, "and I'll have someone send up a new dress for you."

Fortunately, Bill thought to himself, she didn't have the strength to be offended by his offer, but really, she couldn't meet the Sherriff of Area 5 in a pair of faded wranglers, and a cotton blouse, as wonderfully as the two items did hang off her young breasts and willowy hips.

"Eric will meet you in the bar at midnight. Should you choose not to come you are still welcome to the room for the night. Here." He handed over a very plain white business card. "Should you wish to contact me for anything else, you may reach me at these numbers."

He sincerely hoped that she would call him after meeting with Eric, after all, his employer simply wanted to put a face to the words she had written, perhaps ask a few questions of her, but he certainly would not wish to sleep with her, knowing that she was a prostitute. No, his employer would have his curiosity sated within the hour Bill figured, and then, just perhaps, he would stop by that hotel and offer his own services to the girl. There was still an intoxicating sparkle of innocence to her that he deeply wanted to drink in.

**Please review and let me know if the shift of POV/ limited omniscient person works.**

**Merick**


	7. Chapter 7

Part 7

Initially he hadn't looked all that terrifying to Sookie, just another man, seeking her out in the dark, however inconvenient it was that he had chosen that particular time. But when she'd realized that she couldn't read his mind, and then he'd told her he was a vampire, well, then she'd begun to feel terrified.

Holding herself on that bridge, so many things flashed into her mind. Someone had been reading her blogs, and someone didn't want her to die, at least not until he'd met her, and she'd been so close to ending it all until the man with the hooded eyes and motorcycle leathers had talked her down.

And he was a vampire, he was actually dead, but standing in front of her just the same. And he looked like everyone else, except that he was paler, and maybe a little more gaunt looking; but really not that much different than the lost faces she'd seen every day for the past four years. But something about him was almost seductive, the way his voice rolled over her like water with a Southern accent she supposed must have been at least a hundred years older than any she'd every heard. The offer he had made, to help her end her life peacefully was almost appealing, in a chilling sort of way, and she trembled as the words played over in her mind. And she couldn't read him, and he was the very first person she'd ever met that she couldn't read. She wondered if all vampires were like that, and she marveled in how peaceful it was for those moments when she hadn't been scared out of her mind that he was just going to rip out her throat and drink her blood like in all the late night horror movies.

It was a great deal to have swirling in her mind for those few seconds she had to think, as he made a phone call to his employer, and Sookie wondered what this other vampire, this Eric Northman must look like. If Bill Compton was any indication she thought that he would have the same deep set eyes, and pale skin, five o'clock shadow and long fingers that reminded her more of Nosferatu than anything else, not ever having seen another vampire. But for some reason, one she did not explore at that time, the offer to meet with him appealed to her. She did give a passing thought to the way Bill Compton had described what she thought would have been a quick and easy death. She had not counted on surviving the fall with her consciousness intact, nor had she considered the pain of the impact. The idea of returning to the bridge was not appealing. And some man, even if he was a vampire had offered her a beautiful hotel for the night, and a meal, and a few more hours to think. She could not guess at what the substance of his conversation with her might be, but for that time, she managed to push the thoughts of Bon Temps and Jason out of her head. He certainly would never come looking for her at the Hilton.

When the taxi pulled up, and stopped in the middle of the bridge Sookie did not hesitate to get in. The driver asked her the destination, and looking into his mind, because he was human, she was able to see that although he had already been paid to take her to the Hilton, he had also been instructed to take her wherever she wanted to go. That small gesture on the part of this Sherriff gave her comfort to actually relax for the trip. The driver continued along the bridge, and made a u-turn when he reached the east end, only to return to the west side and proceed back towards the hotel. By the time they reached the midpoint again Mr. Bill Compton was already gone. But somehow Sookie had the idea that she was going to see him again.

"Miss?" The taxi driver's voice pulled her away from her introspection; thinking about the bridge and the cold black water and the mysterious vampire who had shown up to stop her. He was holding something over the back seat for her to take, a box of Kleenex. "Your mascara is a little smeared miss."

Sookie imagined that it was far more than a little smeared, and she took the proffered box thankfully and dabbed at her tongue and then under her eyes to try to clean up the mess the tears and the wind had made. It wouldn't do, she figured, to present herself to the desk at the Hilton looking like a weeping mess. She might not have had much in her arsenal, but she had pride. A little bit of pride at least.

The circular driveway of the hotel was well lit, and it looked almost like daytime. Pride, and self-consciousness made Sookie hesitate to leave the confines of the taxi. But when the driver opened the door she forced herself outwards into the night again, but just as quickly into the spacious lobby of the hotel. There was a time, perhaps not that long in the past, when the lobby would have been nearly empty by midnight, but not any longer. Not to say that all the people she saw there, milling about, or waiting for companions were vampires, but some were, Sookie started to recognize that they seemed to project something like a hole in the fabric of the world she saw with her head, nearly as obvious as the screaming minds of the humans. Society seemed to have adjusted itself to accommodate the new arrivals in the vampires. Certainly the proximity of the casinos played a part in the traffic, but it was still very lively, more so than Sookie was used to. And she cast her eyes downwards as she walked quickly to the check in desk. Hoping that all was going to be as promised, and that it was not all some cruel joke on the part of the universe.

"Hello?" She offered shyly as a greeting as she stood at the desk. A tall man with brown hair, a clean-shaven face, and a pressed uniform jacket looked at her. "I have a reservation?" her voice was hesitant. For an instant the man looked at her as if she was joking, some little waif in cheap clothing sent to test him, but then a glimmer of recognition crossed his face.

"Ah, yes, Miss Stackhouse isn't it? Mr. Northman called about you only a few minutes back. I'm so sorry to hear about the fire."

Fire? She wondered to herself, before casting her mind out to see his thoughts. It seemed that he had been told that a terrible fire had destroyed her home, and that she would be arriving with nothing but the clothes on her back. Clever, she thought to herself, feeling an admiration for this Eric Northman, and his creativity.

"Thank you." She whispered back. Since she was already mostly in shock from the events of the night, her voice sounded very sincere.

"It's a very good thing that Mr. Northman is such a good friend. He's seen to everything." The man, now with a smile on his face pushed a white card across the desk to her. "He did ask me to let you know that he'll meet you in the bar after you've had time to clean up and settle yourself." He pointed in the direction of the lobby lounge, framed in by wood and glass block, it looked very intimate and cozy.

"Thank you." She said again.

"This is your room key, if you need anything else please just touch one on the phone and the concierge will bring it up immediately."

Apparently this Eric Northman was quite a big shot, it was amazing how fast attitudes changed at the mention of his name, Sookie thought to herself. She took up the key.

"Top floor, to the left from the elevators, PH 3" The man told her, and she walked away, feeling a little as if she might be in a dream, and a lot as if she never wanted to wake up.

She hadn't expected PH to mean penthouse. And if she'd thought she was in a dream before she got in the elevator, when she opened the door to the room she became certain she must have been drowning in one. Not to say the place was massive, it was still Shreveport after all, and not New York or Las Vegas, but the suite had three rooms to it, a sitting room, a bedroom beyond it that Sookie could just see through the open door, and a bathroom that was bigger than her kitchen. She laid the key card and her small purse down on the side table by the door, and latched it behind herself; old habits dying hard. And only then did she allow herself to explore.

The sitting room had two chairs around a small meeting table, which doubled as desk, a coffee table, a television, and a couch. On the desk there was a tray of cut fruit, and a carafe of orange juice, resting in a bowl of ice. Most of the fruit was recognizable, strawberries and blackberries, which she helped herself to, and one strange fruit, cut up and served in it's own hollowed out bowl, which was a pretty pink with almost 'scale-like' protrusions, the meat being a translucent white with tiny black seeds that looked like a kiwi. She tasted the cut chunks hesitantly, and found them to be some type of cross between the aforementioned kiwi and a watermelon, and she found that she liked the exotic texture very much, helping herself to several more pieces. The orange juice beckoned and she poured herself a full glass to carry around as she explored the bedroom.

It had to have been a king sized bed, Sookie figured she could easily fit herself on it lengthwise or widthwise, and the coverlet was a white duvet that seemed as thick as the mattress itself, and so soft when she pushed a hand against it, watching it sink into the depths of the feathers. It was what lay on the bed that amazed her.

There was a blue dress on the bed, a sundress with little straps and a runched bustier, and a tiny little shrug beside it, laid out as if to be presented to someone just slipping out of the shower as the outfit for evening, which Sookie supposed, was exactly what it was. On the floor there was even a little pair of open backed sandals, matching of course, that fit passably well when she slipped a bare foot into one. She could not help but smile. She couldn't even remember the last time anyone had actually bought her a present. She ran a fingertip along the length of the dress, it was also so soft, and delicate. No hanging threads or mismatched seams as she often found with her regular attire, because of where they'd come from and the lacking quality control that often accompanied the discount price tags. No, this one had been stitched with care, not by hand, but with craftsmanship. She looked at herself in the large mirror; off to the side of the bed, adjacent to another television, this one enclosed in an armoire and took stock of herself finally.

The Kleenex in the cab had cleaned up her face if not left it looking rather wan and plain. But her hair had been blown about some, strands peeking out from the ponytail she'd yanked it into before leaving her apartment for the last time. She pulled the elastic out and finger combed it straighter, but she didn't feel as if it helped her overall appearance. She needed a shower, and after a refill of the orange juice she made her way to the bathroom; another room that held as many thoughtful surprises as the first two.

Instead of the usual little bottles of shampoo and conditioner and the tiny bars of soap, the counter top held a toothbrush, and hair brush, a small makeup kit with a selection of little pots, each labeled as to their contents, concealer, moisturizer, eye shadows and lipsticks. And hanging on the back of the door was a full, fluffy white bathrobe, and a nightgown, also white, of a Victorian style, with long sleeves and a ribbon at the bodice, in a beautiful cotton waterfall of fabric. A tear came to Sookie's eye. A memory was teased out of her mind at the sight of it, another nightgown, from a long time back, a gift from her grandmother who had always been so talented with sewing. It had made her feel like a princess then, she could not believe that she had forgotten all about it until just that moment. The recollection sent an overwhelming wave of grief over Sookie, and the tears flowed freely from her eyes, splashing on the countertop when she turned away from the dress. Sad gasps escaped her throat as she thought of her grandmother, and of everything she had missed about her in the past eleven years. She allowed herself to cry for a good five minutes, finally sinking to the floor in all her misery, sobbing against her drawn up knees.

It took another five minutes before her body ran out of tears completely, and she was able to pull herself together and finally stand up and make her hands work well enough to strip off the jeans and blouse she was wearing. Out of habit she folded them neatly and left them on the bathroom counter before she stepped into the shower, which was separate from the large bathtub, and turned on the hot water to try to reclaim some of her composure. She knew she shouldn't keep her host waiting too long, and felt anxious that she had let herself get so caught up in the old memory as to have lost so much time. She hurried to wash.

The shower felt good, as did blow-drying her hair out long with the little hotel dryer and the wide new brush. She walked back to the bedroom in the robe that brushed the floor, being as it was so long, and she, not quite so. Just under the blue sundress was another package she had not noticed earlier, new underwear, still with the tags on. She let herself feel happy for those few moments as she dressed; banishing the apprehension of meeting yet a second vampire that night. How, she wondered to herself could he be all bad if he had provided for her in the way he had? Even if it had been the mysterious Mr. Compton who had arranged for the clothing it felt just as comforting. Perhaps she hadn't heard the truth about vampires in the whispered conversations on the corner; that they were hungry demons who wanted nothing but blood and bodies to use at their will and then discard. A speck of her soul wanted to believe that someone, or something in the world could still be good. And it had been a long time since she had allowed herself that thought.

After applying a minimal amount of makeup she did a quick turn in front of the full-length mirror, and grabbed up her key card to go back to the lobby to meet this Eric Northman, Sherriff of Area Five.

The upstairs floor had been quiet, and perhaps that was why Sookie had felt so able to think and explore her own worries without being assaulted by the force of other minds and the power it took to keep them out. Back in the lobby however, she was once again inundated with the presence of the other beings and the almost carefree relaxation was crushed down, her physical manifestation going with it. She drew her arms around herself again, even though she was not cold, and put her head down, not meeting anyone's eyes for fear of further enhancing what she would hear from them. She made her way to the bar and the hostess at the entrance and asked very quietly.

"I'm here to meet someone? I don't know if he's still here or not."

The woman smiled at her, "Ah yes, Mr. Northman's guest, yes he's only just arrived himself. Let me take you back, he's in the private salon."

Sookie was not prepared for the person she saw waiting for her when the hostess pushed open the maple colored door and stepped aside for her to enter. If she had expected someone looking like Bill Compton, the person she saw was his antithesis.

The man she saw was a giant, she could tell that even though he was seated in a leather chair, he towered over the back of it. His hair was blond and cropped close, not like the brown length and sideburns that Bill wore. His eyes were blue, and they sparkled as he looked up at her, not at all hidden under a dark brow or mysterious inclinations, at least not as far as Sookie could tell. His fingers were laced before him, in a contemplative look, not at all calculating, and he seemed to have been deep in thought before she entered, thoughts of something very important it seemed, as his mouth was drawn into a tight line, and he did not even seem to be moving, but for the gesture of his eyes. He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen, and that even counted on television.

"Ah, Miss Stackhouse. I'm so pleased to finally make your acquaintance."

**Squeeee, Reviews are love**


	8. Chapter 8

We have moved to watching things through Eric's eyes. Shall we see what he thinks of our broken Sookie?

Thank you for taking the ride with me this far, I hope you enjoy what you read.

Once again, the characters are not mine, just the situation I have dropped them into. Thank you to CH for creating them for us to play with.

Part 8

He had a lot of confidence in himself and so while a lesser man might have entertained the idea that the girl wouldn't show, Eric Northman did not. He knew that eventually she would join him at the bar. Once he had verified that she had indeed checked in he had settled himself in the private salon at the back of the lobby bar to wait. Waiting was nothing to him, he was over a thousand years old, a scant hour meant absolutely nothing compared to that. Once Compton had confirmed that she'd agreed to meet him Eric had closed up his books and computer for the evening, far more preoccupied with finally meeting the intriguing blogger than the collection of tributes and the parceling out of his own. His second, Pam Ravenscroft, could deal with the night-to-night running of the club, as she usually did. Being the Sherriff had the perks of being able to take a night off whenever he wished.

The Hilton was one of the nicer hotels in Shreveport, and one of the first to make accommodations to the newly emerged Vampire culture. Eric appreciated that, even though he knew it had been motivated by the heretofore-untapped economy of the undead. The twenty-four hour service had been stepped up to his liking, and the rooms, when he used them, were comfortable and safe; the underground banquet rooms having been converted into spacious suites without the worry of daylight. It didn't hurt that the staff regarded him with the proper authority, and that management had even chosen to consult with him as to the requirements of their guests, for a very reasonable fee.

The girl had actually arrived earlier than he had expected her to, if his second was any indication, women generally took a great deal of time to ready themselves for appointments; but not this Sookie Stackhouse. Eric appreciated that in her, as much as he appreciated the sight that greeted him as she came through the door.

He'd read her description of herself in the blogs, blond, petite, busty, but he hadn't actually expected her to look quite as, well, innocent as she did. Living four years essentially on the streets, after having been an abused child had made Eric think that she would look harder, or more run down, as she had described herself, but she had been unduly harsh by his assessment. Certainly she was thin, malnourished, he had expected that, but her hair was lustrous and golden where he had expected dull and flat. Her skin, though pale, was flawless and she carried herself well, even though she seemed meek. There was strength in her that she did not know she had; she had survived the streets and the abuse, and even though she did not give herself the credit she deserved, Eric could see it. The one thing that did not surprise him, or rather the two things, were her eyes. They were almost lifeless, not trance-like, the way the breathers he glamoured were, but just beaten down. There was no spark there. And as he searched the mental picture he had created of her as he had read her words he found that they were even worse than he had imagined. That realization tugged at him just a little, a feeling he filed for later contemplation.

"Ah, Miss Stackhouse. I'm so pleased to finally make your acquaintance."

He watched her take him in, knowing that he was an excellent specimen of beauty in the eyes of many breathers. Her initial silent reaction to him was not surprising, but he found he enjoyed the charming innocence of it.

"Won't you please join me?" He gestured, without rising, to a chair across from his, placed that way for her and then followed her as she sat. "May I offer you something to drink?" It took her a good few moments before she spoke to him.

"Umm, thanks, sure, that would be nice, thank you." The disconnected sentence betrayed her uncertainty and her fear. He called over the private bartender.

"A bottle of Veuve for the lady please, and I'll have my usual." With only a nod the man went to fetch the order, returning first with an ice bucket, not silver, to set beside Sookie and a warming one to place by Eric's side. His second trip was holding two crystal goblets, one of which he set in front of each guest, and the third, bringing a bottle of Veuve Clicquot Champagne for Sookie.

Eric had made a point to research many things about humans, not the least of which was appropriate beverage choices when entertaining. Though he had never tasted champagne himself, he knew well enough that Dom was overpriced for its reputation and relied on the appearance of the olive bottle with its darker crest and the name to sell itself. The Veuve Clicquot was a far better choice, at least in Shreveport, seeing as Perrier Jouet and Moet et Chandon, other excellent choices were not as readily available on such short notice. He watched as Sookie stared at the orange label, recognizing the cork and pop as champagne likely before the name.

"I don't really drink." She said quietly as the barman poured for her.

"You don't get drunk as I recall, but that does not preclude you enjoying the taste I imagine?" Eric replied to her hesitance.

"I suppose not." She let the glass sit in front of her, staring at the bubbles as they coated the inside of the flute. That was until the barman brought Eric's drink.

Eric Northman did not drink synthetic blood. The concoction had been created by Japanese scientists just prior to the great revelation, financed and motivated in great part by the vampires themselves, tired of living in the shadows, and wanting to reclaim their place; though many of them saw that place in different ways, back in the world. No, Eric Northman drank the true thing, from the source when it was offered, from donors when payment was required, or, like this evening, from a bottle, specially prepared by a number of exclusive companies, also from paid donors, screened for their health and their specific diets. When it was poured out into his glass it was more viscous than the champagne, and its dark red color made it unmistakable. The bottle, non-descript amber glass was then placed in the warmer made especially for such things. Not hot enough to cause the liquid to begin to clot, but not so cold that the drink became unpalatable. Eric picked up the glass by the body of it, no need here to worry about warming the contents with his fingers, etiquette demanded that it be grasped thusly, so that the drinker feel the warmth of the blood even as the headspace on the glass fogged just slightly.

"A toast?" he offered to his still slightly stunned looking companion.

Her fingers shook as she picked up her own glass by the stem but she held it out to meet Eric's.

"To what?" She asked very quietly.

"To my finally getting to meet you Sookie." And he tapped her glass very carefully then drew his own back to take a mouthful. It was excellent, it always was, the donor having eaten only fruits for a week prior to the 'harvesting'. It imparted a sweetness that Eric could no longer appreciate from the real thing. It had been a millennium since he had tasted fruit.

He watched Sookie take a delicate sip of the champagne, and watched the smile cross her face and her nose wrinkle as the bubbles tickled her. All he saw in the action was the seven-year old girl she should have been, had it not been for the events she had written about at the onset of her blog. But watching her breathe, her chest still trembling as he took another sip of his drink, well, he saw the woman she had become and he felt oddly conflicted.

"Do you like it?" He asked, cocking his head in an interested sort of way.

"It's very nice, thank you." She set the glass down, seemingly self-conscious at being observed in the act of drinking. "And thank you very much for the room Mr. Northman. It was very kind of you to do that for me."

"No kinder than you agreeing to speak with me."

"But really, having everything there that I'd need, it was very thoughtful."

"Well, you are welcome Sookie. I am glad everything was as you needed."

She took another nervous sip, and looked into the Nordic blue eyes of the massive vampire across from her again.

"You wanted to ask me some things Mr. Northman?"

Eric set his own glass down and wove his fingers together again, resting back in his chair. "Do you feel up to me asking you questions?"

"I suppose so."

"If I tread on ground that is too painful you need only ask me to stop and I will." He had no intention of making her uncomfortable if it could be prevented. He wanted her to trust him, and he knew that he would likely only have the one chance of that night to earn or lose that trust. If things went as well as he hoped they would there would be many nights to broach any uncomfortable details.

"Okay." Sookie took another, larger gulp of the champagne, it was a pity, Eric thought to himself, that it didn't have any effect on her. Half of the delight of drinking such substances was the euphoria they brought.

"Have you ever had Champagne before Sookie?"

She shook her head, "I suppose I never thought about such luxuries Mr. Northman, and I needed my money for other things."

"Indeed." He nodded, "Then you must be certain to enjoy it this night, on me." He reached for the bottle, nestled in the ice and poured out to fill her glass again.

"What do you dream about Sookie?"

"Do you mean when I close my eyes at night or what do I hope for?"

"Both I think."

"Mostly its nightmares when I sleep. My brain has a lot of material to work with I'm afraid. That's why I like sleeping in the sunlight, well that and because I go out at night, to find," she paused, looking for a word that wouldn't sound offensive, "company." She settled on. "I can't sleep right after I get back. I want to shower and put something else into my mind, television mostly, so that the last thought I have isn't about sex. So I mostly sleep when the sun is starting to rise."

Eric could not suppress the grin that was threatening his face as she spoke, she likely didn't realize it, but her description of herself was pleasantly familiar to him.

"What is it about the sun then?"

"It's warm, kind of like a blanket I guess, and I fall asleep hard, so I don't dream. Does that make me sound weird?"

No weirder than himself, Eric thought, but again, chose not to say it out loud.

"And what do you hope for Sookie?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing." She shook her head and pursed her lips together.

"No one is without hope." Even a thousand year old vampire had hope, and desires, and when they were realized there were more to take their place. There was always something to covet, or work towards acquiring. That was the nature of life, the drive that kept beings moving forward, but perhaps Sookie Stackhouse was not like that. "Is there nothing that you desire?"

"You hope for something, then it doesn't happen and you feel worse for having wanted it Mr. Northman. I gave up."

The way she said it revealed more than the words themselves to Eric. He was not yet at the stage that he could feel sorry for the girl, at least his conscious mind didn't believe that he was. His curiosity had been peaked, and some innate sense of decency, instilled by his mortal parents; that a child should never have been used the way this girl had. There was also the amount of curious similarities that were increasing as she spoke more about herself.

"Is there nothing that brings a smile to your face Sookie? Nothing that makes you happy?"

She paused thoughtfully, and then did find an answer. "Fruit. Fresh fruit. It was one of the first things I bought when I got out here. I guess if I think about it, it always made me feel better to have an apple or a peach, or even a glass of orange juice." Another pause, "just like what you had them leave for me up in the room. The basket and the juice, it was really nice. Especially that funny white fleshed fruit, in the pink rind, I've never had anything like that before."

"The dragon fruit?"

"Is that what it is?"

"Pink, looks like scales on the outside of the rind?"

"Yes, that one. Dragon fruit? I guess that makes sense. It was exotic."

"I am glad I found something that you enjoyed Sookie. May I ask you some more questions?"

"Please." The small connection of the fruit had made Sookie seem more comfortable with the discourse as Eric saw it, and so he dared to ask a more personal question.

"Sookie? Can you read my mind?"

"No, I can't, I'm sorry."

"Really? I thought you said you were a telepath in your writing?" Eric felt a distinct discomfort at her answer, and began to wonder if she had made up this trait that he had found so intriguing.

"I am. I just can't read vampire minds it seems."

"How do you know?"

"Humans just kind of broadcast their thoughts sir. They're always there, like a low hum in the background unless I focus in on them, or focus to shut them out. But vampires, well, you're just a kind of hole. Please don't be offended, I just can't think of a better word."

"I'm not offended Sookie. Could you explain it to me further?"

"I didn't even know I couldn't read vampires until Mr. Compton found me on the bridge." Eric watched as she shuddered at the memory. "People don't sneak up on me because I can hear them coming a mile away, in my head. But he was just suddenly there."

"He didn't frighten you did he? I gave him explicit instructions not to frighten you." He felt his hands tense, a reaction to the thought that he might have to discipline Bill Compton when next he saw him. The man was good at his job, but he often pushed things to the very edge of the permission given him, a trait that one day was going to see him launched over that precipice.

"No, I was just startled that's all. Really. And when I tried to push into his head I couldn't. The void idea became obvious when I walked into the lobby here, where there are humans and vampires. I could hear the humans no problem, but the vampires were just blank spaces that moved around."

Eric snorted at her characterization. There were a few vampires he knew who would be most appropriately described as walking blank spaces; many of them patrons of his bar, none of them in his employ.

"So Mr. Compton was the first vampire you've ever met?"

"Yes sir."

"And you assure me that he treated you well?"

"Yes sir. And your taxi driver, he was nice too. I could see that you'd told him to take me anywhere I wanted, even if it wasn't here."

Eric was happy to have the proof of Sookie's talent, because the instructions she relayed reading from the man were the exact ones he had given him.

"Can you tell me what the barman is thinking?"

"He's quite pleased that you are here tonight Mr. Northman. You're a good tipper and you don't leave a mess like some of the other vampires who come in. He hates cleaning up blood."

Again Eric felt the urge to laugh, and moreso when Sookie joined him with a nervous little twitter.

"Then I suppose I will have to tip well won't I?"

"Yes sir, he's saving for a new car because his wife is having a baby and he wants something safer for her."

The detail impressed Eric. But he could see that Sookie was growing tired. He filled her glass again, hoping to buy just a little more time with her.

"Sookie? Is your Uncle Bartlett still alive?"

"I don't know." She hung her head.

"Do you want to press charges against him, for what he did to you? I can certainly assist you with that." Eric Northman had a number of lawyers at his disposal.

"I don't have any proof."

"What if you spoke with your brother? If you explained things to him, do you think he would believe you?"

"I don't know. He loves Uncle Bartlett, I don't think he'd ever speak against him."

"Perhaps you should call your brother, and tell him what happened."

"I can't, I don't even know if he still lives with my Uncle. I couldn't…" her voice trailed off. Her fear of a man who was obviously old, and likely not in a position to threaten her any longer was obvious to Eric. It raised his ire.

"You couldn't manage if he answered the phone instead of Jason?" He confirmed his suspicions.

"No."

"I believe that you are stronger than you think you are Sookie."

"I'm not."

"May I give you one more gift?" He made to reach back into his jacket before Sookie even answered him, and handed her a cellular phone.

"I don't understand?"

"It's just a disposable phone, untraceable if you want to make the call. I've entered Jason's phone number there, along with my own private line, and the one to my club, Fangtasia."

Sookie opened up the phone, the directory did show the three numbers, first Eric's, then Fangtasia, then Jason's. She looked back at Eric for further explanation.

"It wasn't hard to find the number, I just used the online telephone directory. I put my number there in case you should wish to speak with me again, and the club's number, because there are always humans there who can help you during the day if I am unable."

"You're first?"

"It's alphabetical. But it worked in my favor this time." The smile on her face tempered the anxiety that Eric could see there. "I know you are tired, and I will not keep you any longer. But I do hope that you will agree to postpone your death for another night so that I may meet you again tomorrow, to continue our conversation?" He said it matter of factly, not to embarrass her, but to demonstrate that it was her choice, and had always been.

"Okay." She closed up the phone and clutched it in her hand, averting her eyes from his gaze again.

"Excellent, I will tell the front desk that you will be staying for the foreseeable future. Please, avail yourself of the room charges and go shopping tomorrow to replace some of the things you lost in the fire." He smirked and she laughed.

"That was quite brilliant."

"Thank you, I enjoy being brilliant. May I walk you back to your room Miss Stackhouse?"

She nodded and they departed the bar, Eric leaving a generous tip and congratulations for a stunned barman at his upcoming blessing.

Next Chapter, Sookie's take on Eric, and a visit from another Vampire.

Reviews are love.


	9. Chapter 9

Now we will ride along and see how Sookie saw things for the meeting.

Thanks so much for following, I have tried to get back to everyone who was kind enough to send a review, but if I have missed someone my sincere apologies. Thank you all for taking the time to keep me true.

Merick

Chapter 9

He'd been respectful of her, possibly the only man who ever had, and that was what stuck with Sookie for the whole ride up in the elevator, and down the hall to her room. Not that he was gorgeous, even though he was, and not that he smelled really nice, even though he did, and not that he was seeing her to her door safely. He had asked her questions, politely, and actually waited on her answers, hearing them and responding to them. And she could not help but think about how peaceful it had been to be with him. Bill Compton had been quiet, but she'd been scared of what he might do, especially seeing as she'd had no other experiences with vampires to base her assumptions on. But Eric Northman was a gentleman, and he hadn't even cringed when she'd spoken about working. Better, he hadn't pressed her on anything having to do with that part of her life, and had actually granted her the autonomy to stop his inquiry. It hadn't been much, but for that hour she had been in control of her life, and the taste of it had left her feeling better than she had in a very, very long time.

Reaching her door she held out her key card to him, mostly out of habit, without thinking about it, but he held his hands up and refused to take it.

"Don't you want to come in Mr. Northman?" Even with the feeling of self-control he had imparted to her, old habits and reactions died hard. He had been nice to her, more than nice and she felt she owed him some payment for that. It didn't bother her to feel that way, it was business, and it was survival, you paid for everything, one way or another.

"Let me tell you something about Vampires Sookie." He began, not admonishing her she felt, but enlightening her, for her own good. "Do not invite a Vampire into your home unless you truly want him there. Without your invitation he cannot enter, and he cannot stay if you revoke it."

"Even in a hotel?"

"In this hotel suite yes, it is in your name now, and the rules will apply for as long as you reside here."

"But you don't want to come in?" Her reaction was confusion. His was a gentle smile.

"Not this night Sookie. You need to rest. Don't be insulted, you are a beautiful girl, but I only hope is that you have a peaceful night, and that perhaps you can begin making some dreams for yourself, by yourself."

"Well thank you again Mr. Northman, for all your generosity. I suppose I will see you again tomorrow night?"

"I will ring you with what time I can get away from my duties. I look forward to continuing our conversation. Oh, and please, will you call me Eric, if you are comfortable with that?"

She rolled the thought around in her mind for a moment and tried it on her tongue. "Eric?" His smile at the sound of his name falling from her lips was encouraging. "Yes, thank you Eric. Thank you for everything."

"If you should wish to go anywhere tomorrow simply call the club and they will send you someone from our car service. Otherwise I will bid you a good night and take my leave of you."

"Well, goodnight then." She slid her own card into the lock and by the time she turned back to where he had been standing he was gone, with only a slight gust of wind to ruffle her hair as he departed. These vampires were a very curious lot, and bolting the door behind herself she went to the bedroom to lie down and think over everything that had just happened to her. The cell phone Eric had given her was still in her hand and she opened it again, just to look at the names. She wasn't ready yet, and told herself she couldn't call Jason, it was the middle of the night, she'd wake him up, and then he'd be angry and even less inclined to listen to what she had to say, not that she had suddenly found the courage to say it. No, when she thought of Jason it was not as her big brother, racing to her rescue, believing every word about the abuse she had suffered, it was the Jason who looked at her as if she was a piece of trash for that one horrible second of recognition back at the casino. She clicked the phone shut and put it down on the bedside table, suddenly feeling very weary, the euphoria of having spent time in the company of a charming vampire; yes, that was the word for him she thought, charming, was fading even as her body was. She stripped out of the dress and hung it up carefully. She'd only worn it for an hour or so and figured it would be just fine for the next day. She then stripped out of her underwear walking to the bathroom, and rinsed it, along with the pair she'd been wearing earlier, with the help of the little bottle of shampoo, and hung everything to dry over the bath tub.

She looked at herself in the mirror, standing there in nothing but the scars that the last four years had given her; physical and otherwise. He'd said she was beautiful but she couldn't see it. Her ribs showed out from under the swells of her breasts, and her hipbones stuck out a bit too far as well. There was a ragged white line across her left thigh, where a belt buckle had torn her skin in someone's haste to have her. There were fading bruises, but there were always bruises. The other scars weren't so visible, but she knew they were there. Vigor tore, and rent skin healed, eventually. She splashed some water on her face and tried to purge those thoughts from her mind, wanting to get back to the respite of the person Eric seemed to be seeing in her, and only then did she slip into the long cotton nightdress that had been left on the back of the bathroom door. It was soft against her skin, and she could look at herself in it, as she brushed out her hair, without crying this time, and that made her feel better. Even just the changed view of herself was comforting. She looked more innocent she thought, in the clean, chaste white gown, better than the hardened waif that had just looked back at her from the mirror. She realized that she actually felt relaxed, something that she hadn't felt in a great many days. Thoughts of Jason pushed aside for the moment she felt calm, and not the same calm as she had earlier, when she had made the decision to end her life. That was an altogether different sort of resignation and peace. No, just then, looking at herself in the mirror she had a glimpse of what could have been, perhaps, what might be? And she allowed herself to smile.

There was still orange juice resting in the ice, even though the cubes had been reduced to small islands in a cold sea, and she poured herself another glass and was preparing to carry it back to the bedroom when there was a gentle knock on her door. She sent her mind out to find only the vampire void and wondered if Eric had decided that he did want to come in and join her after all. That idea made her a little sad, but the strength that she would not take ownership of when she was speaking with him earlier kicked in, and she went to open the door, awash with the feelings of acceptance of what she owed him. She slid back the bolt and opened the door.

"Good Evening Miss Stackhouse." But it was not the measured voice of Eric Northman or the blond hair that reminded her a little of an angel, no it was the deep southern accent and rakish brown hair of Bill Compton, and his smile that greeted her from the hallway.

"Good Evening Mr. Compton." She heard the waver in her own voice, though she did not recognize the disappointment, and watched his eyes take in her body, she hadn't thought to grab up the robe and was standing there in the white shift, its fabric clinging to her breasts and its neckline exposing her décolletage. She trembled in his presence.

"I trust your meeting went well?" His voice was just like honey and she couldn't help but let the cadence of it wash over her.

"It did, thank you." She knew the hand that held the glass of juice was trembling, she could see the little waves in the orange as she cast her eyes down away from Bill Compton's. She found she could not look directly at him, his eyes were so dark, and she feared that she could get lost in them somehow.

"I had hoped that I might hear from you this evening." He leaned out and rested his hand on the doorframe.

"I'm sorry, I've only just gotten in."

"Would you like to invite me in? I could keep you company?"

"I'm just so tired Mr. Compton. And Eric has asked that I meet him tomorrow night again."

"Eric?" She could hear the incredulity in his voice as he posed the one word question. She wondered if it was the familiarity that shocked him, or the prospect of a second interview. Before she could think of something else to say she heard a little ping, an announcement from his phone, from deep inside the leather jacket he was still wearing. He extracted it from an inner pocket and looked at screen with a bit of a scowl on his face, one that quickly disappeared as he returned his gaze to her face.

"Well," he began, in a measured sort of way, "It would seem that Eric," he emphasized that word, "has further tasks for the both of us."

Sookie let out the breath that she had not realized she had been holding, and felt her shoulders relax. It seemed, she believed, that Eric Northman had again provided for her, by solving the problem of how to ask Bill Compton to leave her be.

"I will have to go then Sookie. Do you still have my card?"

She nodded.

"Then it is my fondest hope that I may yet hear from you in the coming days."

She nodded again, unsure of what other response to give. It made him smile; a thin lipped smile that looked more hungry Sookie thought than much of anything else. The hand that had been resting on the doorframe moved in her peripheral vision, she did not dare to turn her face to see where. Then she felt two cold fingers draw down the left side of her face, curling just under her jaw to tip her head backwards forcing her to look up at him. In a mysterious, dangerous way he was desperately attractive; perhaps because of the hunger she saw in his eyes, and her gasp at seeing him only broadened his smile.

"Goodnight then Sookie." And he bent his head and kissed her on the mouth, lingering for a moment over her skin as if taking a breath from her. Her whole body shook as he did so. And he then he too was gone.

She shut the door with all the strength that weakened arms and legs could muster, slid the bolt back in place, and ran for the bedroom, shutting that door as well. Then, drawing her knees up to her chest she curled herself into a little ball on the bed and cried, because she didn't know what else to do.

**Next Chapter: Bill gets a mission **


	10. Chapter 10

Thank you again for all the kind reviews, it makes my heart glad to hear how so many people are taking up Sookie's story.

Once again, I do not own any of these characters, only the situation I have dropped them into to explore.

Merick

Chapter 10

Once again, Eric Northman's timing had proved to be impeccable. Bill Compton knew that he couldn't glamour Sookie into inviting him into her room, though he had not yet sorted out why that was, but he was quite certain that he could have charmed his way in. If not for the text message he certainly would have tried. But sex and blood had to come second to the orders of his employer and as intoxicating as Sookie Stackhouse had smelled, and as tasty as she had looked, he knew that the order to meet Eric at Fangtasia could not be ignored. Besides, Eric, it seemed had some unresolved interest in the girl, and if he had made a point of requesting a second meeting, then having her show up smelling of another vampire, one that Eric would recognize immediately did not seem like a prudent risk. Bill Compton did have to admit a sincere curiosity as to Eric's motives, and he wondered if perhaps he should have read past the first two paragraphs of the blog before abandoning it for other pursuits. If time permitted that night, depending on what the matter was Eric wished to discuss in person, he intended to get back to it. Eric had dropped precious few hints, except to direct Bill to the few words of description that Sookie had written about herself, to aide his search for her. As Bill thought back, Eric had become somewhat more obsessed with this girl than any other in Bill's recent memory. There were always women in Eric's life, sometimes it was hard to keep track. Bill found it easier not to bother most times.

The ride over to the club, from downtown to the suburban reaches was uneventful, which gave Bill more time to ponder what Eric wanted with the girl, and what he wanted with the girl. To be more precise, he thought a bit about what she might actually taste like, and what her flesh might feel like, wrapped around his aching manhood, or his fangs for that matter.

Bill Compton liked being a vampire; he liked it a lot. He'd enjoyed being human, and a landowner of some prestige in the small hamlet of Bon Temps. But he liked being a vampire more. It had pained him initially, to lose his family, and then his son to the true death. But over the decades the power of the Vampire had seduced him completely. He liked having people afraid of him, and he liked having people lust after him. And he liked being able to ride a loud Harley Davidson, and to walk into any club in the state, under the auspices of Eric Northman, Sherriff and be treated with respect. What he craved was to be noticed by someone higher up the Vampire food chain; yes he liked terrible puns as well, so that he could expand his territory and influence to something more on a regal scale. Bill Compton intended to be a King one day, and he took great pride in adding to his arsenal of favors and substance to that end.

Fangtasia was a non-descript club, set in a strip mall, far away from the downtown and casino district of Shreveport. It had an off the shelf awning out front, supported on some poles, and a velvet rope, which he found pretentious for such a small establishment. But it made the breathers feel more special to be allowed admittance. Of course Bill did not go through the front door. He parked hi bike around back, beside the black Mercedes driven by Pam Ravenscroft, Eric's child, and second. Eric himself did not drive; he was one of the gifted Vampires that were able to fly. It might have come with age, Eric being more than eight hundred years older than Bill, but he had never inquired. For the time being, Bill was quite enamored with driving fast vehicles. Besides, he wanted the room for a passenger, or passengers if the night was good.

He had a key code for the back door, and punched it in, gaining admittance to the back hallways of the club. They were no more or less decorated than the main salon; a few drink posters, and some neon, announcing that friends don't let friends drink friends. He knocked on the plain door that was the entrance to Eric's office, and upon hearing the entreaty to enter he pushed it open.

"Bill, good." Eric didn't even look up at him from his desk, where he was again pouring over something on his laptop.

"Good Evening Eric." He went and took his usual seat across form the tall blond Viking at the desk. "I trust things went well for you this evening?"

"They did."

"And you were able to meet with the girl." Bill didn't phrase it as a question or as a statement, just somewhere in between, in case Eric was aware of his own visit. It appeared that Eric was not.

"I was, and I have made another appointment to speak with her again tomorrow night. She was," the older vampire paused, "intriguing." And he left it at that. Bill silently agreed.

"You said you had a job for me?" Bill was still hoping to salvage some of the night, to feed, and to read.

"I do. I need you to find out about someone for me."

As a 'procurer' this was Bill's primary function, to find people and things, and to bring them to Eric.

"Yes?" Eric was obviously distracted because it was taking him a great deal longer to make his request than Bill was used to. With one Alpha and one pretender in the room they generally kept their interactions short, text messaging had been a true boon for them.

"I need you to find out if Miss Stackhouse's Uncle Bartlett is still alive."

"And?"

"And for now just find out if he is alive, and where he is. Later, perhaps I may ask you to pay him a visit, but for now I only need to know if he poses a continued threat to Sookie."

Sookie? It seemed that Eric had developed a familiarity that Bill had not expected. It made him even more eager to finish reading that blog.

"Of course, it won't take me long." He bowed his head respectfully to the older vampire and left, eager to get home and begin the search, first on his own computer, and failing that, with a few phone calls to the humans who worked for him on occasion. It shouldn't take long, he figured, a quick search of obituaries in one window, the yellow pages in another, and city hall a third. He still had a forth on his Mac to do his own work, which right then was reading the rest of that blog to see what had so captivated Eric Northman.

He had been correct in his assessment that the search would not take long. Bartlett Hale was still very much alive, and living in Bon Temps, Bill could not ascertain if the address was the same house Sookie had grown up in, but it didn't much matter to him just then. He texted the news to Eric and then turned to the blog he intended to read, and cursed under his breath that he had not finished reading it earlier, certainly earlier than when he had drawn Eric's attention it to. The damned girl was a telepath! Also she had been sexually abused and had turned to prostitution, but those things mattered little to Bill. He had had an asset of royal proportions in his hands and had let it slip away out of sheer carelessness. His frustration at his actions, or lack thereof, was taken out on an unfortunate table that had previously occupied a corner of his study. No longer did he want to drain the girl, no he wanted desperately to find a way to pry her out of Eric's fingers, though he could not think of a way to do that just then. He began to reason things out. Of course Eric would have recognized her potential, and would not be easily dissuaded from pursuing her, but pursuing her for what was what Bill raked over in his head. Eric had a great many business interests, but for the most part stayed away from politics and royal business unless forced to deal with it. He knew that if he could seduce the girl before Eric did, that he could claim her as his own, and that Eric would then be unable to touch her, and then her powers would be his to use as he bid her. But he would need to make the girl fall for him, which he didn't think would be terribly difficult, having an over inflated sense of ego. Better, if he could get her to take his blood, he thought, then it would be even more difficult for Eric to deny his claim, and for the girl to push thoughts of him out of her head. Bill Compton knew the effects of vampire blood on humans; not the damned high of the 'V' street drug that people were selling, but the effects of having it from the source. The dreams, the sexual dreams that drew breathers to their vamps were powerful, and could easily be mistaken for true feelings of love and lust. Then the girl might even stand up on her own, as she saw it, and proclaim her attachment to him. He knew that would have to be the key. He would need to get the girl to taste his blood, and before Eric Northman beat him to it.

Sadly, at least for Bill, he had precious few minutes of night left when he finished reading Sookie's writing, but it was enough time to call one of his human servants and instruct him to drop by the hotel that day and leave some gifts for Miss Sookie Stackhouse. And though he felt the ire at having nearly let the asset slip away from him, Bill Compton was able to sleep as the sun rose, practicing and plotting what he would next say to the girl, to turn her to his favor.


	11. Chapter 11

I have struggled over this chapter, deleting bits and rewriting them over days. I want to try to convey a sense of dizziness for Sookie, I don't know that I've completely managed it, but keep it in mind as you read through the swings in her thoughts, understanding that she has never had a normal relationship with anyone and that can be overwhelming.

I look forward to hearing from you all..

Merick

Chapter 11

Tears turned into a fitful sleep that was not at all restful and when the sun began to seep in the gauzy curtains that she had not thought to strengthen with the blackout ones tucked in behind, Sookie woke, the images of two very different men in her thoughts: thoughts that had settled in her gut like a knot which she could not banish. In the world that had been framed in black and white, mostly black, the shades of grey were taking Sookie from one almost frantic extreme to the other.

Bill Compton had scared her. His appearance at her door had brought back the knowledge of his offer, the easy death for her, the death that she had been so set on embracing only a scant few hours before it seemed. He had looked at her with lust, she did not need to be able to read his mind to see that; but it was what he lusted after that had her confused. Her body? That was easy enough to understand, many men had lusted after her body. Her blood? That was something Sookie had no knowledge of. She'd heard of the blood whores, as they were called, selling themselves to the vampires. Some folks envied them, and some scorned them. It was one thing to sell your body, but quite another to sell a piece of your life, or your soul they reasoned to justify their disdain. Sookie didn't really see the difference; her life had come to mean nothing, and that was why it had been so easy to make the decision to throw it away. But of course, now she was reconsidering that decision. And that had as much to do with Bill Compton as it did with Eric Northman.

She had never thought about being sexually attracted to men before, sex had always been about as far away from attraction as she could believe. But suddenly, in less than twenty-four hours she had felt things from her body that she had never felt before. That realization had her dreadfully confused. Despite still feeling the exhaustion in her muscles, she was glad for the sunrise, because she knew that she would have time to think, or time to run, whatever it was that she finally decided to do. So she lay in the bed, letting the dreams have her waking moments, trying to make some kind of sense out of every thread that had her entangled.

Bill Compton was not a soft or romantic type of man; he wore his emotions on his sleeve, and something about the fear he provoked in her, and the way it made her shake was exciting, not like the fear of the men on the streets, or the approach of her uncle, more like an amusement park roller coaster. It was fun because there was always a chance that you might actually be killed, and bringing yourself to that very peak produced an adrenalin rush that was the epitome of euphoria. Haunted houses were the same. That was probably a better comparison she thought to herself as she wound the white sheets over her hands. He was dark and dangerous, and he wanted her, and just that knowledge stirred something in her core, something that frightened her. The memory of that kiss; his hands had been cold when he had touched her on the bridge, but everything then had been cold. But to find his lips were cold, the feel of them had been so different, and the quiet, it haunted her because she did not know what to make of it, and she could not push it away like the anonymous men whose beds she had shared for four years. And then there was the other.

Eric Northman was beautiful, she couldn't deny that. His hair was golden, his eyes sparkled even in the muted light, he was thoughtful and handsome and sexy, and she stopped herself at that point. He had told her she was beautiful, but it had been in a chaste sort of way, the way one reassures a child, whether it is the truth or not. He had not wanted to have sex with her, and she had seen that as noble, but doubt began to creep in, and as it does, it began to make her question her own recollections. She wanted to have hope, more desperately than she had wanted anything in four years, except a warm bed and a sturdy lock on her door. She willed herself to think back on his face, his even tone, and his kind words. He had been really kind hadn't he? She hated questioning everything, and she hated the feeling of bile that was rising in her gut. She felt the sting of tears rising in her eyes again, tears she could barely stop because she did not understand what her heart was feeling, and tears because she was afraid of what her heart was feeling.

She threw herself out of the bed and out of the bedroom into the sitting room, feeling suddenly short of air, fighting the urge to let that first tear fall. Seeing the expanse did not help her because it forced her thoughts back to Eric, the one who had set it all up for her, based on some kind of curiosity that she did not understand. A sudden knock at the door startled her and her instinct sent out her mind to discover who it was there. He was human, of that she was certain, but he wasn't thinking about her, only about some hostess at the lounge that he really wanted to get back to chatting up; the concierge had sent him up with some task, and warned him not to ask for a tip or he'd be fired. He was no obvious threat and so Sookie swallowed her emotions, another response of instinct, cautiously opened the door and peered out at him.

"Good Morning Miss." The man half bowed to her with a plastered on, hospitality weekend workshop kind of smile.

"Hello?" Sookie could not help but notice the silver cart he had parked outside her door.

"Mr. Northman wanted to make sure you have breakfast miss, if it isn't to your liking I've been told to get you anything you want." He really didn't fancy being sent back to the kitchen for something else, Sookie could see that in his face.

"What is it?" Her response was hesitant; worried that someone who didn't actually eat might choose something wholly inappropriate for breakfast.

"French toast, fresh berries, orange juice and some bacon?" The breakfast sounded wonderful, and smelled even better when the man wheeled the cart in without actually waiting for her acceptance of it, and took the cover off the plate. He tidied up the dishes from the previous night without another word and left. His rudeness aside, Sookie was actually used to being mostly ignored by people, she let herself smile. Once again Eric, her golden haired angel had provided for her and he had managed to sweep the doubt from her soul without even being there. She sat down to eat, pouring a glass of the fresh orange juice, drinking it as if it alone would sustain her.

Only when she had finished her second glass of juice did she move the napkin to lay it over her lap, spying a white envelope with the Hotel's letterhead. She picked it up carefully, almost as if she was afraid of it. She didn't get mail, not even junk mail at her apartment. She didn't have a phone, and the utilities were included in her rent, so no bills. There was no one else to write to her, she'd looked in her box a few times, the manager had given her a key, but she gave up because it was just one more dashed expectation. Her hands were actually trembling as she tore open one end and dumped out the contents. A white piece of paper fluttered out, but it wasn't that which caught her immediate attention, it was the folded over pile of green bills that landed in her lap. She could not help but gasp. She didn't even have the fortitude to pick them up, or count them; instead she reached for the paper that had landed on top them.

Dear Miss Sookie,

I thought after we spoke, that perhaps the shops here at the hotel might not be to your taste, or might indeed be too limited for you. Wishing to correct my hasty assumption I have asked the manager to have this envelope delivered to you. The car will be waiting for your shopping excursion, you need only call, or there should be sufficient money to take a taxi if you prefer.

I hope you will forgive my thoughtlessness and accept this gift. I look forward to our meeting this evening. I will call you when I am able to escape from my duties at work, should you chose to keep your phone on. I sincerely hope that you will.

Eric

Still trembling fingers picked up the money in her lap, and she counted it out. It was a mix of bills, likely pulled from his own wallet, it counted out to $600.00 and Sookie nearly dropped it again as she finished the math. It was more than a month's rent. Another sob escaped her throat, and again she let doubt creep in, though not of Eric's intentions, but of herself. He was treating her like a princess when really she was nothing more than a whore; used up by the men around her, with nothing to give him. How could there be anything he wanted from her? But yet it seemed that there must be something because he was trying to keep her alive, and trying to ensure that she would see him again. She finished her breakfast through choked sobs, it still tasted wonderful, but not as wonderful as it probably should have, and tears stained the white napkin more than maple syrup and berries.

After a shower she dressed herself back in the blue, because she felt very self conscious about going out in her own clothes, as Bill Compton had noted, not out loud, but his comment about having a new dress for her was more than obvious. She wondered if the blue had been a choice of his, or if it had been on account of Eric's tastes, or if it had simply been the choice of the hotel staff who had prepared the room. She began to wonder if she'd been dressed in that way for the occasion, but then pushed the thought from her mind. There had been enough doubt, and enough tears for one day, even one of her days. She picked up the phone and opened it, it flashed to life with the touch of a finger. She'd never had a cell phone but this one was simple enough to use, and once more she looked over the three numbers that had been entered. Eric Northman, Fangtasia, and Jason. She brushed her fingertips over the words wistfully and then closed it, tucking it into her little bag, just beside the business card from Bill Compton and she went out. She made no calls.


	12. Chapter 12

Thank you to everyone who took the time to write about my last chapter, I was so happy to hear that my point about Sookie's scattered nature had come out in the words. It was, as one kind person wrote, as if Sookie was only now having to deal with the normal teenaged hormones and angst that most of her peers would have sorted out by now. That fits my picture so well, Sookie just kind of 'stopped' at fourteen, and only now is going to get the chance to grow.

Thanks again for staying with the ride.

Merick

Chapter 12

Sookie didn't shop, not unless you counted groceries, and even that was a one-bag affair, and usually not a full one. But she knew that a man like Eric Northman would expect to see her in a different outfit for their second meeting, or rather, he would notice if she was in the same one; she just thought that he probably tended to spend his time with far more glamorous women than she, and though she couldn't do anything about how her face and body looked, she could take the money that he had left to buy another pretty dress and shoes to go with it. She even bought some lingerie, nice lingerie, not the over the top things that the men she met wanted to see her in. No rhinestones, and no thongs, no bright blue or black that made her look like the tramp she usually saw in herself when she dressed and went out. No she bought beautiful white lace that covered her properly, and fit well, without swells of her breasts pouring out over the cups and heaving every time she took a breath. She stared at herself as she dressed in it, after receiving another lovely meal, supplied by Eric's thoughtfulness. Steak, she couldn't even remember the last time she'd had steak, if she ever had. Certainly it had never been as tender and rich and amazing as what he had had the hotel send up.

She had eaten, while wrapped in the white robe so she didn't accidentally spill anything on the dress she'd bought. It was hung up over the closet door, still on the store hanger and in the dress bag they had packaged it in when Sookie had bought it. She kept looking over at the opaque bag and smiling to herself. The dress was the nicest thing she'd ever tried on let alone bought. It was cream colored, and fitted at the waist, sleeveless, just like the blue one she'd worn the evening before, but it had a 'v' neck and full straps, it reminded Sookie of the fifties, of old photos of her grandmother when she'd been young, and smiling, and very much alive. It had a little bit of lace at the waist; tone on tone so that it wasn't obvious, but was just elegant. She'd found similarly colored pumps, also very simple and elegant, and they'd been on sale, so she had justified to herself the purchase of the lingerie. She hadn't spent all the money Eric had sent for her, partly because she hoped that he would want to see her again after that night, and pragmatically because if he didn't want to she didn't have anything to start over with.

After finishing she tidied up the plates, and while doing it the phone she'd left in her purse began to chime. At first she looked up and out of the window to see if in fact the sun had set, so the caller could be Eric. She noticed that her hands were trembling, even though she had expected the call, she fumbled while getting it out of her bag and dropped it twice.

"Hello?"

"Good evening Sookie." It was the slow even voice of the man who had been haunting her dreams; well, one of the two men.

"Good evening Eric." Even just listening to his voice made her want to speak properly to him, such a difference from how she normally spoke to men, when she spoke to them at all.

"Have you had a nice day today Sookie?"

"I have, thank you. And thank you for the money and the food and everything."

"You are most welcome. Would you still be willing to meet with me again this evening?"

"I have been looking forward to it Eric."

"I am very pleased to hear that as I have been looking forward to seeing you again as well. I have some good news: I will be able to get away much earlier tonight. Would I be able to meet you at ten, back in the lounge?"

"I will meet you then." She wondered if the happiness in her voice was obvious to him or not. He might be good at disguising his emotions, but she did not know if she was. At least not when it came to being happy; she knew she was well able to disguise sadness and revulsion in silence.

"I will make certain that the champagne is waiting for you then."

And he rang off leaving her feeling a little warm in her chest, and a little fluttery.

Deciding that she wanted the room to look tidy, she finished cleaning up her supper dishes, and covering everything over on the silver tray they had arrived on. She unlocked her door and opened it, intending to carefully push the cart outside to be collected by the staff again, as they had told her they would, should she not wish to be disturbed. She had looked into their minds, and those who actually knew about her, and there seemed to be many, wondered why such an important man as Eric Northman was bothering with her. Of course a good many believed that she was just a blood whore; but she was used to feeling the disdain, and whatever their thoughts were, they kept them to themselves and treated her politely. When she put up her shields she could almost believe they really were as kind as they seemed. She had just maneuvered it out when she felt another presence in the hallway, and turned her head to look up at Bill Compton, carrying a large vase full of cut flowers. She backed up immediately into her room, but knew she could not shut the door on him because he had already seen her.

"Well hello Sookie." He offered with a closed lipped smile on his face. She tightened the robe around her neck, very self-conscious that he could see her skin.

"Hello Mr. Compton." She cast her eyes downward, afraid of being glamoured by him.

"I was afraid that I might have given you the wrong impression the other night and so I brought you some flowers." He held them out to her.

"You really didn't have to do that." She felt forced to look up at him and to take the vase from his hands. "And you even put them in a vase, that was very nice of you Mr. Compton."

"Well, I was certain that Eric," he paused as he said the name Sookie noticed, and she wondered if he wasn't really upset at the familiarity, "I was certain that Eric had provided for your comfort, but a beautiful woman deserves something beautiful to look at, and not just the walls of a hotel room." He smiled that Southern Comfort smile again, the one that made Sookie tremble, though she couldn't sort out quite why; fear or attraction or even if the feelings were under her sole control.

"Well, it was very kind." The flowers and their vase occupied both her hands, otherwise she would have reached for the door knob to try to shut the door. Instead, she took another step backwards, fully into her room.

"Well I wanted to make certain that you knew that my offer of the other evening was only predicated on your desire to end your suffering. Of course I would prefer that you reconsider your position Sookie." He smiled again, showing off his teeth. "Perhaps you might want to invite me in? We could speak about this more?"

"I, uh," She stammered, wishing she was smart enough to find a good excuse not to invite him in. A memory of her grandmother suddenly came to her and she tried to put some strength into her voice. "I'm very sorry Mr. Compton," She looked down at her robe since she couldn't actually gesture with her still full hands. "I'm really not dressed to receive visitors."

She watched his smile fade very quickly and became a little afraid.

"Would you like your flowers back Mr. Compton?" she offered, her voice returning to its general meek, quiet disposition and she hung her head down.

"No," his voice softened, which was incongruous with the look she had seen on his face before she backed down. "No Sookie, of course not. I completely understand. I must apologize once again for my inappropriate behavior. I hope that you will forgive me." She saw his feet back away and only then looked back up into his face. He was trying to smile for her, but she could see the pinched look around his eyes, a look of disappointment, she knew it well. It made her feel small, like the terrified eight year old who had been approached by her Uncle, her guardian, to touch him, and to strip for him while his eyes crinkled in the same way when she tried to cover herself. She felt as though she was going to throw up.

"Is everything all right Sookie?" Bill cocked his head in confusion, and perhaps a bit of concern as Sookie went pale in front of him, she could feel her energy draining, and her fingers beginning to tremble.

"I just have to lie down." She said, "Thank you for the flowers." She felt as if the world was closing in on her just then, and she turned, pushing the door closed with her foot, forgetting her fear of offering offense. She barely got the vase put down on a table safely before the shaking caused her to drop it, and she returned to the door, locking the bolt and sliding the chain, hardly seeing either. She could feel the void still out there, on the other side, likely bewildered, but she did not spare much more than a passing thought for him, she ran for the bedroom, threw herself onto the bed, wanting to vomit, with her eyes closed tightly and pushed herself into her safe room.

She dropped on her knees on the cream and burgundy rug in front of the fireplace, it was crackling and she could see the dancing shades of orange, white and blue. They sparkled off the brass in the room and the warmth from them made the leather of the great oxblood chair just to her left feel comforting to her touch as she reached out to run her hands along its smooth seat and arms. The smell of the wood as it burned filled her memory and her nose at the same time and she forced herself to inhale, drawing out each breath, focusing on the clean smell, and not mothballs or menthol, just the wood till finally the wave of nausea abated and she felt able to open her eyes, just to reassure herself that she was alone. Blissfully she was, and everything was quiet and peaceful, to her ears and her mind. There was no vampire void in the hallway, and in truth she had no idea how much time had passed as she had struggled to calm herself. Only when she felt she could manage without shaking, did she allow herself bring her shoulders down from around her ears, and to unwrap her arms from her knees where she had drawn them up tightly. She could feel the soft bed beneath her body and could just hear the tiny cell phone's whisper of a chime in the other room.

She stumbled off the bed in a tangle of the robe belt and length, and finding her feet steady again after a few more deep breaths she retrieved the phone.

"Hello?" She answered, the shaking obvious in her voice.

"Sookie?" Of course it was Eric again and she looked around nervously to find a clock, any kind of clock. A few steps back into the bedroom and the red digital numbers by the bed showed 10:30. She'd left him waiting a half an hour while she'd had to pull herself together. A fear of a different sort rose in her chest.

"I'm so sorry." She blurted out, trying again to hold back tears.

"Are you all right Sookie? I became worried about you."

"I, I'll be right down, I lost track of time. I'm so sorry."

"Sookie? Are you all right? Did you want me to come up? Are you still in the hotel?"

"I'm here, I'm sorry, just give me five more minutes. I'm so sorry." She was dropping the robe even as she moved towards the dress, still hanging on the closet.

"You need not apologize to me Sookie. I understand if you have been detained. I was only worried that something might have happened to delay you. Has something happened?" Oh, yes, she thought to herself, something has happened; broken Sookie has leapt out again and tried to crush me. She did not know whether to be angry or despondent.

"I'll tell you as soon as I get down, five minutes, please, please, wait for me." She could feel her own heart racing and wondered if he could tell how upset she was.

"Of course I will wait." That sometimes comforting measured tone betrayed nothing.

She put down the phone and pulled the dress over her head, forgetting to undo the zipper at first so that it stuck awkwardly around her shoulders when it was halfway on. Cursing her stupidity she pulled at the zipper; smoothed the dress into place and checked her makeup. Only a bit of lipstick was required by her hasty estimation, which she applied, and she then grabbed up her bag, with the phone and key card and ran down the hall for the elevator.

**Next Chapter, EPOV, what does he think has happened when Sookie appears out of breath?**


	13. Chapter 13

So, how did Eric react? Read on.

Chapter 13

EPOV

Her voice on the phone, earlier in the evening, when I had called to set up a time for our 'meeting' had encouraged me. She had sounded happy, even excited to hear from me; and not in a booty call kind of way. (I was familiar with the tone of those calls as well.) She had remained articulate, which I appreciated, and had not fallen into adolescent giggling, and verbal hair twisting in her anticipation of our rendezvous. She sounded rested, and even animated, different than the girl whose writings I had been pouring over for weeks, and different than the shy thing I had first spoken to, so innocent of the world in general, and not just the world of the supes, a world she rightfully belonged in, whether she knew it or not. That had been the first time I had spoken with her. But when I had arrived, promptly at ten, and found myself alone, and when after thirty minutes she had still not appeared, I admit to becoming concerned. I had intended to go about building a relationship with her slowly, so that she would trust me, and open up to me about the many things that intrigued me. For her to dismiss me, while not making me angry, made me 'upset'. Hearing her voice on the phone pushed me much closer to distress than I have been in a great while.

While I could not hear her heartbeat, her staccato breathing betrayed her anxiety. Something had happened, at some time between eight and ten thirty, and I could hardly keep myself from guessing what it was. Her breathlessness suggested vigorous activity, and I could not help but think that perhaps she had brought a man back up to the room I was paying for so that she could ply her trade, and perhaps elicit a higher fee for the surroundings. I did not wish to think of that, but it was hard not to. I could not pretend to myself that I had plucked her from that previous life into security in twenty-four hours with a couple of good meals and some spending money. I'd seen Pretty Woman too. That's Hollywood. She might have called her brother and that was certainly a better possibility as far as I was concerned, for my own peace of mind. If she had, and he had not believed her, or had berated her for her choices then I could understand her upset. Worse, if she had called and her Uncle, who I now knew was still very much alive, had answered I imagine that her panic would have been crippling. Of course, any type of fright to her tiny person might have had the same outcome. I preferred to concentrate on those scenarios, as least they would practically give me someone I could exact some physical revenge on, in the name of Sookie's honor. The first, I found myself feeling a bile raising amount of jealousy over, even though I had little right to do so, and certainly no claim either.

I will admit, I felt much better when she did appear, still out of breath, but that time definitely from running. She was beautiful, especially with the flush on her cheeks. And as she drew near to me I could tell immediately that she had not had sex with anyone, bidden or not, because the only obvious scent around her was the salt of her fear and anxiety. It made me happy, in a very selfish way.

"Thank you so much for waiting for me." She gasped out, the nervousness and panic still quite evident in her voice. "I know you are very important and I'm so sorry for wasting your time." I stood, to greet her properly as she tried to arrange herself to come into the private lounge, trying at once to stuff a room key and the phone I had given her into her purse while at the same time trying to close the door that needed to be drawn inward to be latched. It was a funny dance of fingers and hips, but I did not laugh. I simply picked up the flute that I had poured for her myself, and held it out to her so that when she did find her balance in everything that it would be there for her.

She sat, finally, a little more gingerly and set her bag on the table, and then realizing I was still standing jumped nervously back to her feet. At that I had to smile. She was, what was the word I needed? Flabbergasted? Yes, that seemed to work. I handed her the crystal and reached down to pick up my own, I tapped hers with it, producing a happy little chime that I likely heard resonate far longer than she did. Crystal was lovely that way.

"What are we drinking to?" She asked, in the hesitant voice that did not so much as grate on me, as make me feel very sad.

"We will drink to you Sookie, and your continued health." I paused on the last word, wondering for a second if I should not say 'life' but I chose against it. Perhaps I should not have, for as soon as she had taken a tentative sip she burst into tears and dropped to the chair. In an instant, and faster than she could certainly see, I had my handkerchief pressed into her hand, and her flute set back on the table with some measure of stability. I did not want her to ruin the beautiful dress with champagne, or with tears for that matter. I could just see the way she moved in it, and the way she had initially smoothed it that she was proud of her selection.

"Sookie? You had better tell me what has happened." I was not at the stage of trying to glamour the answer out of her, but it was getting close. I knelt beside her and dared to finally lay my hand on top of hers, the one that was griping the chair arm as if it was a life line, not the one that had my handkerchief pressed to her tightly closed eyes. She started at the touch and then relaxed. I knew my skin was cold, but I did not think it was icy enough to shock her. I could feel the bones under her skin, and at that moment her fragility became completely real to me.

She looked up at me, her hollow blue eyes glazed with tears, which made them seem more alive than the past night, but not in the way I had hoped to see them.

"I got frightened." She squeaked out, clearly terrified.

"Of what?" I prodded.

"Of whom." She answered, dropping her eyes again.

"Your brother? Your Uncle?" I felt the rage begin to simmer in my gut again but I kept the display of emotion from her, not wanting to further scare her with my ferocity, which I have heard described as considerable.

"William Compton."

"Bill Compton?"

"He came by to see me tonight, well, last night too."

"He came to see you?"

"He brought me flowers."

"Flowers?" I was certain that my repetitive answers were not doing much to establish either my intelligence or my concern. I shook my read to reset my thoughts.

"Why is Bill Compton bringing you flowers?"

"He was apologizing to me."

"For what?"

"He offered to kill me?" She visibly shrank back in the chair, and dabbed at her eyes again as her voice broke. "And he kissed me." She added as a seeming afterthought.

Right then I was quite certain that I was going to kill Bill Compton.

"Perhaps you had better start at the beginning Sookie?" I suppressed the urges, (I have been known for my patience, at times) and I sat back in my chair, a little loath to leave her without my touch, but understanding why she had flinched when I had made it.

She proceeded to tell me the story of how Bill had talked her down from the bridge, to be honest, I had assumed that he had simply glamoured her, I was just so pleased that she had gotten in the taxi I had sent, that I had not questioned how she got there. To hear that Bill had offered to drain her blood, and spare her the pain of leaping from the bridge, while innovative, actually made my skin crawl. Perhaps it was just the vision of him, darkened eyes and curled up lips, wrapped around her beautiful white neck. I could have almost forgiven him the 'ruse' if he hadn't followed it up with his visit just after I had left her, and forced a kiss on her. Not that she related it that way, the way she defended his actions as being all her fault made the bile rise in my mouth again, and that is quite a feat for a human where vampires are concerned, especially me, I have seen far worse than an unbidden kiss, assuming that you view disemboweled remains as more disturbing. She spoke so honestly of the look in his eyes, and how it had nearly paralyzed her, forcing her to retreat to the room she had written of in her blog, the coping mechanism that had me so intrigued.

I have seen strong women in my time, one gave birth to me, and I made another my child, and to see this girl, as taking all the ills that had befallen her as her own fault, as least as far as it came to Bill Compton right then made me want to shake her; in a nice way mind you. At least she had understood, and used the advice I had given her in not inviting him into her suite. That action alone had likely saved her life, if not her physical body, for I could truly not know just then what Bill's motives were. He had been closer to her than I, and while she had a most enchanting 'fragrance' about her I had not explored it further than that. Bill's actions though necessitated a change in my plans, because if I was going to keep her safe from him then I needed to somehow claim her as my own, and my methodical planning had certainly not included taking her blood so early, or offering her my own. I was briefly at a loss as to how to proceed.

"You've done the right thing by sending him away Sookie, and by confiding in me." I tried to put on a reassuring smile so that she would stop crying. "I am sorry that those memories were forced on you again, but I will take care of things." I reached across the little table that separated us and brushed her hand again. I did not try to hold it, but I have observed that humans value touch, some memory of that from my own life, but mostly from observation. I watched her take a deep breath and then finally look up at me.

"Please don't do anything that will anger him Eric."

"His attentions to you are not your fault Sookie, and if you do not wish them to continue I will see that they do not."

"I just don't want him to take out any anger on me." I could actually hear the trembling in her voice.

"He will not. I have many holdings around the country, indeed, even some in my home country. I am certain an opportunity for travel will be coming his way in the near future." And that opportunity would be one for me as well, to cement her trust of me so that he would have no claim, or hold on her.

"Sookie?" She was beginning to gather herself up and had even taken another sip of the champagne.

"Yes Eric?"

"You have done me the great courtesy of telling me so much about yourself. I feel it is only fair that I share with you. Perhaps you have some questions to ask me?" I set about putting my plans for the evening back on track, despite Bill Compton.

BPOV

"Bloody Hell!" I cursed under my breath. Once again I had said or done completely the wrong thing when it came to this girl. Women liked flowers, didn't they? I'd been charming, I thought. I had apologized for my offer to drain her, which had clearly frightened her, the offer, not the apology. Women liked apologies didn't they? This was going to be so damned difficult, especially when I couldn't glamour her. These broken girls were supposed to just fall into your arms at the slightest hint of a kindness weren't they? Clearly, I have to learn a bit more about this particular girl. The way she had looked at me, as if she was going to vomit, no one looked at me that way, unless I was attending to them for a very different purpose than I wished to attend to her. And on those occasions I took it as a compliment.

There had to be something I could do to get to her, something that would soften her to me. She had another meeting with Northman, a further opportunity for him to use his own, not inconsiderable charms on her. I needed something he did not have. And women certainly did like Knights in Shinning Armor. A road trip was in order. And kicking my bike to life I set out to find my way to Bon Temps.

**Next chapter: what will Sookie ask of Eric, and how will he answer?**

**Reviews are love**


	14. Chapter 14

Thank you again for all the kind words about Sookie that you've sent over the last few days. I hope her talk with Eric pleases you as much.

Merick

Chapter 14

Tears dried on the linen handkerchief he had given her, Sookie steadied herself. Looking at Eric, so calm, and so peaceful just in the chair across from her helped. It wasn't that he was like a rock, far from it, he just looked in control of himself, and so patient, things that Sookie envied so desperately right then when she was fighting against completely falling apart. He'd wanted her to ask him questions that night, and she had to admit a deep curiosity about so many things, about Vampires, and his business, and what had brought him to seek her out in the first place, and bring her in off the bridge. And of course, there was the curiosity of him, the things she had dreamed about him, and the ache that his presence, and even his absence raised in her gut. With another sip of champagne, different than the previous night she noted, she almost felt ready to begin. Telling him the truth of her fears had helped, she'd never had a friend before, and even though she was not at the point of calling Eric Northman her friend, he was the closest she'd ever had. She looked him in the eyes again, just to see the softened reassurance there, he even curved the corners of his mouth up into a little smile for her, gave her confidence.

"How old are you Eric? Am I allowed to ask that?"

"You may ask anything you wish Sookie. There may be questions that I do not have the answers for yet, but I will try to find a satisfactory response for you." He took a sip from the flute he had before him, it was still filled with blood, she didn't know if it was synthetic or real, she guessed real, but she found that the sight of it did not make her shiver as much as the first time she had seen him take it.

"I am one thousand years old."

"Really?" He laughed as she said it, which further helped to dispel the fear and the anxiety she had been feeling. It was a ridiculous response, even as she heard it fall from her own lips. She sounded eight again.

"Really." He nodded, indulging her with another smile.

"Where were you born?"

"I don't know that the place has a name that would mean anything much to anyone in this age, but it was in Scandinavia, long before the kingdoms you know now. I was a Viking."

"I know a bit about Vikings, but not much about geography." Sookie admitted hesitantly, she hadn't been in a class since she was fourteen, and the years before that didn't always involve a great deal of concentration on studies. "Probably not much about Vikings really," she added after thinking, "except what I've seen on TV."

"Most of what you've seen probably isn't true. Though I find that the Discovery Channel sometimes gets some things right." His voice was trying to be helpful, but Sookie felt even smaller with his comment.

"I don't have cable." She whispered, if she had been looking at Eric when she'd said it, she would have seen him slump just a little in his seat.

"Well, you truly haven't missed very much." Even though she didn't see it she could tell he was trying to salvage the mood from his last comment, and she berated herself for the mood swings, which she thought must surely be pushing his interest away from her. Why would someone so handsome be interested in someone as unstable as her?

"I guess you've seen a lot of the world then?" She continued, quietly, knowing she probably wouldn't understand many of his references.

"I have."

"And what was your favorite place to see?"

"I've become quite partial to this room in the last few days." He grinned, and Sookie could not help but let a little smile cross her face. It gave her back some of her courage.

"Can I ask you about being a vampire?"

"Anything Sookie."

"I heard you can hypnotize people by just looking in their eyes, is that true?"

"We call it glamouring, but hypnotizing is also an accurate description."

"And you can make someone do anything you want them to?"

"Yes." She could not help but shudder at the answer.

"So how do I know you and Bill aren't doing it to me?"

"I promise you that I have never tried to glamour you Sookie. I suppose I cannot speak for Bill, but the fact that you have thus far been able to keep him from coming into your suite means that he has not done it to you."

"What does it feel like, to be glamoured?"

"I don't know that it feels like anything Sookie. I don't even know if you would have any memory of the command. As I understand it, you remember whatever actions you do as being your own ideas. I can try to give you a very simple request if you would like? To take a sip of your drink perhaps?"

"What do I do?"

"Nothing, just look into my eyes."

"Just a drink yes?"

"I promise you Sookie, nothing else."

"Okay." She pushed herself back in her chair, and set her hands firmly on the arms.

"Thank you for trusting me Sookie. Now, please, just look at me." She stared right into his eyes, his pale blue eyes and concentrated on the silver flecks that radiated around their dark centers. She wondered if the butterflies that were beginning to flutter in her chest were the beginning of the process or something else.

"Sookie?"

"Yes Eric?"

"I want you to reach out and pick up your flute of champagne and I want you to take a long drink."

She waited for the blank feeling, she waited so see her arm move from the chair to the table, but nothing happened. All she saw was a glimmer of confusion in the blue eyes.

"Eric? Did I do something wrong?"

"Pick up your drink Sookie." The request sounded more like an order that time, but again, Sookie felt no particular compulsion to do it. She felt Eric's hands touch her arms, and his fingers wrap around them, not in a rough manner, not the way Bill had grabbed her on the bridge. His skin was cold, but that wasn't the reason that Sookie shivered.

"Will you stand?"

"If that's what you want me to do Eric, I will." She was so desperate to please him, since he seemed to be growing frustrated.

"No Sookie." He sat back in his chair, hard, pulling his hands off her, which she found she didn't like. "That is very curious." He shook his head and she feared that she'd disappointed him. "I can't seem to glamour you."

"Does that happen sometimes?"

"Never in my experience. Just another mysterious thing about you Sookie."

"So everything I've done so far has been my choice then?"

"Did you have reason to doubt that Sookie?"

"I don't know Eric, everything has been so confusing these last two days."

"I cannot pretend to understand Sookie, but I can appreciate what difficulties you are going through."

"Why are you even speaking to me Eric?"

"Well that was quite the shift in topic wasn't it Sookie?"

"I suppose, but I really want to know. Mine can't be the only miserable blog out there, probably not even the only one you've ever read. Why Eric?"

"I will not lie to you Sookie. You are a telepath. I have never met a true telepath, and I wanted to, my understanding is that your talent is exceedingly rare."

"So, it was just about my curse?"

"Your gift Sookie, and no, it wasn't just that. You are a rare woman Sookie. A lesser person, given your gift, would have used it so much differently than you have. But you never even thought of that did you?"

"Thought of what?"

"Blackmail for one, robbery for another. It would have been so easy to get people's passwords or PIN's right out of their head."

"I couldn't do that. That isn't right."

"I know, and the fact that you believe that makes you very rare, given what you have been through. You of all people could have so easily felt entitled to use people that way, the way they have used you. That makes you special Sookie."

"I'm not special Eric."

"You are to me."

That line left her speechless for a few moments, and she finally reached for the champagne to fill the silence before she reacted nervously, embarrassing herself further, as she saw it.

"It doesn't bother you, what I have done?" She needed to know that from him, in the end she knew she didn't want his pity, not that she was absolutely certain what it was she did want from him.

"To survive? Of course I don't Sookie. I have done far worse in my time. My stories would likely make you want to run from me."

"Have you killed people?"

"Many. Does that bother you?"

"Did you do it for fun or to survive?"

"Always to survive. Killing has no honor if it has no purpose."

"Then how can I judge you?"

"Many have."

"I can't be one of them." She whispered, feeling the ever-present butterflies in her chest.

"I am glad."

She watched Eric as he again reached for his own glass. He sipped it neatly, and she did not even see a trace of the blood on his lips. She found that watching him did nothing to still the butterflies; in fact it made them flutter even worse.

"Can I see your fangs?"

The perfect white smile gleamed from across the little table, and with a quick 'snick' sound Eric's fangs dropped. Sookie gasped. Not because she was frightened, well perhaps a little because she was frightened, they were longer than she imagined they would have been, no the gasp was for the way his smile took on a different life, if you could say that about a vampire. He was still attractive, but with the fangs run out he looked even more elegant. Sookie suddenly felt warm.

"Wow." She whispered to herself, which elicited another peal of laughter from Eric, a sound she found very pleasing.

**Now, what has Bill gotten himself up to? And what advice will Eric give Sookie this time? **


	15. Chapter 15

I hope you enjoy, and that the words intrigue you further.

Merick

Chapter 15

Returning to Bon Temps didn't have a settling effect on Bill, not that he expected it to. He had left it as a mortal, and while he had tried to return once, as a vampire, it had not gone well, and had left him with a sadness that the decades had hardened into anger. Pulling into it again on the Harley elicited a pity of sorts, he had become so much more in the intervening centuries than he ever could have had he stayed there and died there, and been buried there; with a tombstone that would likely now be unrecognizable. No, he had transcended the town, and that happy fact made him better than the few people he did see as he rode through the main street and out to the address, just to the east, to the residence of Bartlett Hale.

He had no illusions that the man would still be awake, he had to be in his eighties, and it was well past midnight, but Bill still didn't intend to wake him up with the low rumble of the bike, and he pulled it over about a mile away from the home, and hid it amongst the ever-present (it seemed), trees. He ran the last of the distance, continuing to bask in the superiority he felt back in the place where he had been born, now returned, more a god than human.

The house was typical for the area, built well over a hundred years back, after the time when Bill had been there, and refitted for electric lights and indoor plumbing. The porch was the same type as his had been, stretching around the face and sides of the house, wide enough for chairs, and for the entertaining of neighbors with drinks and stories. Or for the contemplation of the weather when it turned, pipe safe from the elements, or to oversee the work of the slaves in relative comfort.

There were some old plastic chairs out on it, arranged haphazardly, certainly not by the good touch of a woman with pride in her home. They were white at some point in the distant past but Bill could almost smell the decay in their yellowing forms, burnt here and there with cigarettes. There were stacked boxes of beer bottles off to one side, and a half full ashtray on a similarly neglected table. Bill took that in quickly, far more interested in the pick up truck in the driveway, he hesitated to call it that, it was more a gravel path than anything as formal as a drive. There were two people in it, and he stood back at the tree line to watch them for a while.

The male in the truck had to be Jason Stackhouse, Sookie's brother, who obviously still lived in the house with his great uncle. His companion, who was of less importance, as far as Bill was concerned, was some nameless woman, one that Jason appeared to be doing his best to relieve of her shirt.

"Jason? That you?" A light came on on the porch, as Bill's real target hobbled out onto the weather beaten wood. Apparently he wasn't asleep after all. There was scrambling in the truck's cab, and a response.

"Yup Uncle Bartlett, just me, sorry we're in so late."

"Well just get yourselves in the house, may be a storm coming in, I don't want water all over the stairs." Bartlett's voice was not strong, but it held a commanding power to it. Bill watched as the two people emerged from the truck, adjusting their clothing, and went up to the back porch, purposely away from the old man who still stood half in and half out of the front screen door. Bill could hear the giggling, but he wasn't certain that Bartlett could. Holding his position Bill could see the man look out over to the woods, to the very spot Bill was standing, but of course he couldn't see him, Bill knew how to conceal himself from far stronger prey than an old man.

Perhaps not satisfied, but preoccupied with a task known only to himself, Bartlett went back into the house and Bill heard the squeak of the screen door closing, and the clicks of the locks being slid into place. Waiting a few more minutes to ensure the house was settled Bill set out to walk the perimeter and familiarize himself with the property. It turned out that there was a small pond behind the house, a convenient opportunity, Bill thought to himself. He could also not detect any other people nearby, certainly no other houses, which made for a very peaceful spot in which to dispatch someone with a minimum of fuss, and attention garnering noise. Satisfied, he returned to his bike, he would come out earlier the following night to the house, to take care of one of Sookie's greatest fears, how could she refuse him then?

Sookie felt the exhaustion pulling at her and she fought against it. Just sitting in the private salon with Eric Northman made her feel calm, and safe, and she was loath to give that up any earlier than she had to. It was still confusing to her, when she stopped to think about it, and about him, as he had paused their conversation to take a phone call from his club manager he told her. For four years she had lived alone on the streets essentially, and for six years before that, drawn into the shell of her child self back in Bon Temps; for all that time she had never confided in anyone. But this man sitting before her, looking at her even as he spoke on the phone made her want to open up to him, to tell him everything about her life. It wasn't so much that she wanted his sympathy, but she wanted his ear, she found that she needed it, and just that knowledge made her wonder what was changing in herself. She had not thought that the blog was the true opening up of her soul, but rather a last testament to someone anonymous because she thought it needed to be done before she died. This Eric Northman was real, she hesitated to say alive, because of course, in the strictest sense of the word he wasn't. But he was concrete, and she wanted him to know about her, and to like her just the same in spite of everything. That had never been important to her before, that people liked her, or even saw her as human, but it had become that way in only two days.

That was why she had asked him about being able to glamour people, because her actions were so out of character for her she wanted to know that she was in control of them, and it seemed she was, and also immune to the hypnotizing actions of the vampires. The knowledge didn't make her prideful, she had been beaten down too many times to have pride, but it was another measure of comfort, in what was a small pile that was starting to grow. She could be lost in those eyes, she knew it, and she wanted to be. Which was another very foreign idea for her to understand. Not being able to read his mind was peaceful, but just then, as he hung up his phone and looked at her face, meeting her gaze completely, she wished that she could, because she desperately wanted to know what he was truly thinking about then. And she wanted it to be her.

"You look a million miles away Sookie."

"I'm sorry. I was just thinking."

"Happy thoughts I hope."

She nodded, trying to suppress the blush she felt rising to her cheeks. She wasn't quite sure why the question had evoked embarrassment, but it had, and he could not have failed to notice.

"I know I have said that tonight was supposed to be about you asking questions of me, but I wonder if I might ask you one?"

"Of course."

"Would you be willing to tell me about your room? The one you spoke of online, and the one you said you used to calm yourself after Bill Compton frightened you? If it is too painful or too private I completely understand."

"No, I don't mind talking about it I guess."

"As before, if I tread on any areas that cause you pain, please just tell me to stop, or that you don't wish to answer."

She nodded again.

"Was your room based on someplace in the real world Sookie?"

"No, I just made it up Eric. When Uncle Bartlett was," she paused, and took a breath, "abusing me." She was amazed how good it actually felt to say the words out loud. Eric's nurturing stance certainly helped, he had leaned forward in his chair towards her, giving her all his attention. "I needed to find someplace to escape, some place that I could force myself into fully so that I could ignore what was happening to me."

"Was it always the same place?"

"Sort of, I guess. I suppose I added more things as the years went on." She pursed her lips in a sad little smile, and shrugged her shoulders.

"And why was it a room Sookie? Why not someplace else? Like a fairy tale world?"

"With unicorns and rainbows?" She asked, her eyebrows raised.

"All right, I agree that sounds rather silly now that I think of it." Eric admitted, "But why a small room, why not someplace open and free?"

"Because I could control everything in that small room. I still can. In a big open space there are no boundaries. I wouldn't know what was hiding beyond the horizon, or even beyond the grass. There would have been fear and uncertainty, and I don't know if I could have seen that as an escape. In my room nothing can jump out at me from behind a tree, I know every inch of it."

Eric did not fail to miss her change to the present tense, even though Sookie had not noticed it.

"Four walls, there wasn't even a door. I was the only one who could get in. So you see, it was safe."

It was Eric's turn to nod.

"And the furnishings, were they things you'd seen before?"

"Not that I can recall, but I don't remember much from when I lived with my parents. None of it came from Uncle Bartlett's place, that's for certain. I guess some things might have come from magazines, but mostly I think I just put them there out of my imagination." At that point Eric rose and came to sit directly in front of Sookie, moving her glass off the table so he could sit there. Even though the table was low, he still towered over her. She took a deep breath, hoping to still a heart that had begun to beat a little faster.

"But why those particular things Sookie?" His eyes looked so serious to her just then and she had to steady herself before answering. The words came from her mind then, spilling out almost beyond her control, as if Eric had unlocked something she had always known but had never realized, about her choices.

"The chair, seemed like the kind that important people would use, people who had power where I had none. And when I sat in it I could pretend, or I could just curl up and let it hide me because from the back you'd never have been able to see me. The rug, well it took a long time to weave it together myself, it was something beautiful that I created, something that I could do, unlike school where I failed at so much, this was my work of art. The fireplace, I needed the sounds of the burning, and the smell, and the way the flames could glamour me." She used the word purposely, wanting to liken it to Eric's abilities, even if they didn't work on her. At that he reached out and took her hand again, holding it carefully in his great one, folding his fingers around her palm. She trembled and he only held it tighter.

"The brass fixtures captured the firelight and broadcast it around the room, but they were soft, softer than silver, silver is just too sparkly, I wanted it to be darker, and more earthy, kind of like that was the way I could be grounded; in the wood and the fire and the flame." She found then that she could not pull her eyes away from his.

"I put the other things in there over the years, adding the paneling, and the shelves a bit at a time, to keep my mind focused on anything but what I was doing, or what was being done to me."

"I cannot say that I find it hard to believe that you have that kind of power Sookie. But it amazes me." His words were almost a whisper, and he still held her hand. To her eyes he seemed a little unsteady just then, but she could have been wrong, after all, she'd never had this kind of conversation with anyone, and she hardly knew Eric Northman, or any vampire. She couldn't say what she was really seeing, or couldn't believe what her mind was telling her.

"Eric?"

"You must be exhausted Sookie." He seemed to be trying to snap himself out of whatever place he had just retreated to, though his voice did not seem to hold the same conviction that it had only minutes earlier. "Again I have kept you out late, and after the incident of earlier I should have been more considerate."

Seemingly finally allowed permission Sookie yawned, bowing her head, and covering her mouth with the hand that was not enveloped in Eric's.

"Would you let me walk you to your room?"

"I would like that."

He stood, and guided her up gently.

"What are you planning on doing with your day tomorrow Sookie?" They walked out into the lobby and towards the bank of elevators.

"I hadn't thought much about it. I was sort of wondering whether I should go back to my apartment?"

"You don't like the hotel?"

"It's beautiful, but I can't stay here forever."

"Why not?" He laughed.

"At the very least I need some more clothes." The elevator doors opened and Eric punched in the floor.

"Is there anything special to you at your apartment? Anything personal? I can send someone to pack it up for you, and bring it here."

"No, not really, just clothes, I never really bought much for myself, no souvenirs or mementos, if that's what you mean."

"Then don't go back Sookie. I'll send a driver out with a car for you just after lunch; he'll take you anywhere you want to go. Go shopping. Buy the things you need. Leave everything else behind."

"But Eric? I can't just do that." She didn't want to say that she didn't have the money, because of course, he knew that already.

"Of course you can, I can, so just meet the driver, please?"

"But." She began again to try to dissuade him.

"Please Sookie, it would make me very happy if you would." The elevator arrived at her floor and they stepped out into the empty hallway. She sighed.

"Whatever you like Eric." He stopped and turned her around to face him in front of her door.

"No Sookie." His face was quite serious. "It is whatever you would like. Once again I must apologize, I don't mean to force you into doing anything you don't want to do."

"I," she stuttered, "I would love to go shopping Eric, really I would. I'm just not used to people doing nice things for me. That's all."

"You should get used to it Sookie. Because as long as you allow it, I am going to do nice things for you."

She put a small smile on her face and looked up at him.

"Tomorrow, could I take you out somewhere Sookie?"

Her heart leapt to her throat.

"Where?"

"To a movie or something?"

"There's so many people around in theatres, it can be so noisy."

"Of course, I forgot for a moment. You choose, anything you like, just some place away from the hotel for awhile."

"Okay. Can I call you?"

"I will wait by the phone. Please do. I am up till very late." He laughed, and she did too. "Now go in and get some rest Sookie." He finally let go of her hand so that she could dig around in her purse for the keycard. When she found it she looked up at him again to find him watching her, in that way of his, like he was seeing something even deeper than she knew, something in her soul.

He reached over to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear and she closed her eyes at the gentle touch. Before she could open them she felt the careful brush of his lips across her cheek and sighed, turning her head into him.

"Goodnight Sookie, and do not worry, you will have no other visitors this night."

She managed to open the door without dropping the card and fumbled inside while he kept careful watch of her. It seemed wrong to her to close the door on his smile, but she did, not understanding what she was supposed to do instead.

"I'll miss you." She said out loud as the door latched and she found she had to lean against it for support, as her legs felt a little weak. She wondered if perhaps she was hungry as well as tired, but neither of those conditions explained the butterflies and the racing heartbeat.

If he had not been sure of the emergent feelings the previous night, Eric Northman was certain of them now. Somehow he knew that this girl, this woman had been brought into his life so that he could protect her. Somehow she was already a part of it and finally realizing that gave him a peace in his unmoving heart. She would have done anything he'd asked of her, even without the glamour, (a most curious thing that), but that was not how he wanted it. He did not want to fit into the fracture to tear it wider, but to help mend it. Holding her hand had felt nice, not a word he would have ever thought to use before. And she had leaned into his touch without even thinking. He had heard her heartbeat speed and slow over the course of their night, and was left with the memory of it racing again. And the words, words she certainly could never have guessed that he could hear.

"I will miss you too Sookie." He said to the door, very quietly before walking away. He had business to take care of with Bill Compton, to ensure Sookie's safety, and no whelp was going to get close enough to harm her, not on his watch.

**Next time: what will Eric do to Bill, and vice versa?**

**Reviews are love.**


	16. Chapter 16

Today's exercise is title compare and contrast.

Thanks to CH for giving us these characters to play with, I have no rights to any of them and feel privileged to take them out to my sandbox for a while.

Merick

Part 16

Once again the phone rang, interrupting Bill Compton's activities. After finishing his reconnaissance of the Hale property Bill had returned to his hidden motorcycle and left Bon Temps. Of course he hadn't returned to Shreveport directly, he was hungry, and excited by the prospects in front of him. Not that hunting an old man was difficult, but keeping himself hidden from everyone else, and the thoughts of torture and retribution, all while keeping the death beneath the suspicions of the local sheriff was a challenge that left him feeling electric.

He had stopped a village of sorts, only a few miles from Bon Temps, it had not existed when he had lived there, and looked to be more the overgrowth of a family farm than a proper rural community. Whatever its origins there was a collection of people there, in various states of consciousness, and drug addled lethargy. Their scents were very feral, and not just because of the limited hygiene that many he passed over seemed to display. The scents reminded him of the few shifters he'd had the misfortune to come across in his time, and he wondered if the community was not just an inbred collection of another batch of them. Not that the question halted his hunt.

Concealing his fang marks was not difficult on the one he chose, the track marks alone on the woman's forearm would have done it if his skill at making his fang marks look like haphazard needle punctures was not so well practiced. Her head was hung forward when he found her, alone, half collapsed over an old wooden crate in the barn. Her blond hair fell past her waist, or would have had it been cared for, as Sookie's was Bill noted. It lay in hanks and mats, but did not look incongruous on the face it framed. She was only a girl, but her skin seemed aged, and grey, as if she had seen the hardships of someone three or four times her age. She dressed in a shift of some sort, tattered, and dirty, and she didn't even have shoes. But Bill felt no pity for her, right then she was simply a meal. She barely mewled as he bit and drank. Her blood tasted wild, and Bill was convinced that she must be a shifter or were of some sort. There was a strength in the blood, despite its wild essence. She didn't know she had that strength, and she never would.

His feeding was prematurely interrupted though, by the damned phone, and as much as Bill enjoyed the technology and convenience of the thing, he considered simply crushing it. Not wishing to draw attention to himself with the repetitive chiming he left the girl, in mostly the same position he had found her and raced from the barn at preternatural speed. Perhaps it had been a good thing he had chosen this cluster of houses from which to feed, considering the drug producing apparatus he had seem in the barn, they were unlikely to report any vampire attacks to the police, and even if he had been seen, nothing would come of it.

"Compton." He growled as he snapped open the phone, knowing full well whom it was.

"Where are you?" The equally annoyed voice of his Sheriff asked.

"I went out of town on some business." Bill did not plan to give away any more information than absolutely necessary to maintain his oath of fealty. He had no intention of giving Eric the chance to strike at Bartlett first. "I should be back in an hour or so. Is there a problem?" But of course Bill had a very good idea what the problem was, the girl apparently couldn't keep her mouth shut about much. Or perhaps Eric had been able to glamour the truth from her where he hadn't been able to, though Bill doubted that. The girl was a telepath and he felt that something about that ability made her mind more difficult to capture for all vampires, and not just he.

"Why are you bringing Sookie flowers!" Eric's ire was obvious to Bill in the tone of voice he used, an accusation rather than a question. It worried Bill for an instant; it would not do now to be dismissed from his employ, and he knew Eric could be very resourceful. He played his cards close to his chest not wanting to lose the chance at claiming the telepath for his own stable.

"We had a misunderstanding. It was my impression that flowers and an apology generally worked to fix such things with girls. Though I am obviously well out of practice."

The line was silent for a moment, Eric composing himself perhaps Bill wondered. He could almost imagine the growl growing in the older vampire's chest. Yes, just on the right side of fealty.

"When you return you need to come by the club." Not the statement Bill had expected, he had steeled himself to be admonished and told not to approach Sookie again, but perhaps that wasn't the conversation for a telephone.

"As you wish."

He was back at his bike, and kicked it to life purposely while holding the still engaged line down at the handlebar level, knowing the roar would annoy Eric.

"I will see you shortly." Then he hung up and slammed the bike into gear, rumbling away from the barn and the drug lab and the wilted girl who hadn't tasted nearly as sweet as he knew Sookie would when she gave herself to him.

What the hell Bill Compton was doing out of town, except possibly running from his rage, Eric did not wish to contemplate, though he forced himself to. The man was devious, and dangerous, and had his place, but just not anywhere near Sookie; not since he had proven his ability to terrify her. Eric had promised Sookie that he would keep Bill away from her, and as much as was in his power to do, since Bill had broken no codes as of yet, he intended to do. He couldn't just ship the man off to Alaska, much as he wanted to, but there were other tasks he could be given, including the delivery of time sensitive documents and tributes to the Queen of the state. Sophie Anne had a thing for Bill, and would likely insist that he stay for at least one night. Which was one night more that Eric would have with Sookie, one more night to shore up her confidence so that she could send Compton away. Yes, he acknowledged to himself, it would be ideal if he could claim her as his by then, or if she would proclaim it, but Eric had no intention of pushing her into something as significant as an exchange of blood, or sex. No, the time might come for the intimacy, but he knew it was not there yet, and he knew that it would not be a simple fuck, no, it would have to mean something to them both for it to mean anything significant in the eyes of the vampire world. He meant to ensure that if it did happen that it would be from true desire, and not lust or guilt. She deserved that, and so did he.

He set to work putting together a package for Bill to deliver, sealing it with a wax of his blood and thumbprint. Even Bill Compton would not dare break that seal and then attempt to reform it; the blood was sacrosanct. Normally Eric would send his tribute to the Queen with a trusted vampire courier, but this time he included some legal papers, nothing terribly important, some deeds and a transfer of title for a vampire who had wanted to gift a plot of land to his child, and a petition from another to make a third child. Bill did not have to know the contents, only that his sheriff required his services. Satisfied, he set it aside on his desk and called the garage for one of his cars to be made ready, to pick up Sookie the following day, and his banker, (vampire bankers worked at all hours, it was a much appreciated luxury, to secure another surprise for Sookie. Bill Compton might have brought her flowers, but he was going to give her a new life, the one she should have had all along. And he was going to give her control of it. His last call was to another of his employees, one who functioned much as Bill did for him, a Were who acted as his day-man, a Were with his own talent for finding things, and making them disappear.

"Quinn?" Eric did not generally associate with the two-natured, but at least Quinn wasn't a wolf, he was actually a tiger, and that rarity, and some personal issues had brought him to Eric's attention. Not that Eric Northman was some kind of halfway house for the emotionally damaged. Quinn had offered his services, and Eric had liked the proposal. The abject loyalty had been a bonus.

"Eric." The drawn out response of the single word even reminded Eric of a tiger, the breathiness of it was like a feline roar, just a few octaves below that of fury. And Quinn did not mince words; he took orders well, was not above killing for his employer, in a very efficient manner, and of course he was compensated mightily for his talents.

"I have a job for you."

By the time Bill Compton arrived Eric had everything sorted out in his head as to what was going to happen, and when he charged Bill with the trip to New Orleans he delighted in seeing the snarl cross his lips. It made up for the damned Harley. Bill knew better than to protest the order and the two danced around each other with pleasantries like wolves at the challenge, neither drawing blood, but posturing as politely as they could manage. Bill left, unhappy, which pleased Eric to no end. He sat at his desk and toyed with the idea of calling the cell phone he had given Sookie, just so that he could hear the sound of her voice once again before he slept, but he did not, not wishing to wake her, hoping that she had been able to sleep after everything he had done to offer her comfort. Though, just looking at the number on the screen of his own phone, just one caress away, made him smile as he readied himself for bed, once back in his own home. The sun took him with the thought of how her skin had felt beneath his lips, warm and alive, and innocent, and how much he craved her.

Breakfast arrived as it had the previous morning, at a decent hour for someone who had been up well past midnight, as far as Eric knew, and in fact far past two, as Sookie knew. When she had closed the door on him, still feeling the chill of his lips on her face, it was not cold she remembered, quite to the contrary, she felt as hot as flame. She had undressed carefully, not wanting to ruin the beautiful dress and looked at herself in the closet mirrors, still in the perfect underwear set that he had never seen. For the first time, in a very long time, she felt beautiful. She could look at her own body and not see the object that the men used. She did not feel the urge to shut off the lights so she could not see it, she did not feel revulsion at the curves of her breasts, or the hips that flared out beneath her waist. She saw her body as hers, perhaps even more so because she had not given it to anyone in the white and ribbons. It seemed that the purchase really had been for her. That simple thought, that luxury made her feel warm.

That warmth had cradled her awake for another hour or so after Eric had left her, everything was quiet, and she had simply let herself explore the feelings that were so unfamiliar to her. It was an amazing thing to close her eyes and see his face, when so often it had been a forced blackness that kept her company, instead of the faces of the johns and the pains they had left behind. For an hour, until she had fallen asleep, there had been a glimmer of hope.

She ate, and dressed and packed up the little phone in her bag before going downstairs in the hotel to meet the car Eric was sending. She had no idea exactly when after lunch it was to come, but the trilling of the little box gave her a clue.

"Miss Stackhouse?"

"Yes?"

"My name is Quinn, Eric Northman has asked me to drive for you today. I'll be around with the car in a moment if you are ready."

"I'm already at the main door, what kind of car are you driving?" For some reason Sookie had expected a black sedan of some sort, or even an SUV or crossover.

"It'll be red, you won't miss it." And the phone clicked off. Whoever this Quinn was, he didn't waste words, that was for certain. And the car was most certainly red when it arrived, and no one missed it, from the bellhops to the bleary eyed gamblers arriving or departing, Sookie could not be certain which without going into their minds, and at that moment her own was so preoccupied with the snarling vehicle that she couldn't have managed it. The front grill looked like a wasp, but for the wrong coloring, and it had two deep slashes cut, one down each side that Sookie could not even guess at a purpose for. It sat perhaps six inches off the ground on five spoked wheels that gleamed in the sunlight. Certainly it was not the vehicle for travelling on anything but the best roads, a pothole would likely pitch the two passengers, for there wasn't room for any more, straight out the open roof. The only clue to its identity was the yellow shield and the prancing horse upon it on the driver's side door. Sookie could not help but gasp as a man who seemed far too large for the vehicle exited the driver's side, and opened the passenger door for her.

"Miss Stackhouse?"

She felt as though her mouth must have been hanging open, and the expression 'catching flies' popped immediately to mind, but she could not remember where she had heard it before. A strong hand carefully guided her towards the door, and she felt the minds of everyone in the hotel driveway turn on her, wondering who she must be, in her faded jeans and tee-shirt, getting into a Ferrari Spider. (She'd pulled the name from the valet's head, well; he had actually screamed it to himself, desperate to get the keys in his hand.) His disappointment was palpable to Sookie as he realized that the driver had no intention of leaving it.

"Mr. Northman asked me to take you wherever you'd like to go today Miss." The low voice, that almost had a purr to it; and not a kitten type of purr Sookie noted, more of a rumble, shook her from the shock and she turned to the driver, who had now settled himself in back behind the wheel.

"Thank you Mr. Quinn."

"Just Quinn Miss." And he threw the car into first as Sookie scrambled to buckle herself in, wondering if she shouldn't have a five-point harness instead of just the shoulder belt. She tried to look into the driver's mind, not that she mistrusted Eric's choice, but out of sheer self-preservation. It was very focused, what she could see of it, but there were parts that were blocked, where she felt she might be able to go with enough force, but that she dared not invade. She could see his single-minded purpose for that day, to accompany her wherever she wished to go, and to deliver her back safely to the hotel. The mind beside her was quite black and white, if you didn't count the locked away parts, and Sookie chose not to just then. That purpose was comforting, and spoke volumes to the type of man that Eric Northman must be to have that type of loyalty, and that spark that had ignited the previous night wanted desperately to keep burning, focused around the hope that Eric Northman somehow cared for her wellbeing, and that he was her friend if nothing else: though part of her ached for him to be something else, even if she didn't understand that part completely.

"Where can I take you Miss?" Quinn's voice came above the low growl of the engine, actually sounding a great deal like it, some kind of chained fury just waiting for the right moment, the depressed accelerator, to pounce.

"I guess you can't pull up to Target in a car like this eh?"

"I don't believe that Target was quite what Mr. Northman had in mind Miss."

"Apparently not." Sookie continued to look around the car as they drove, it was like seeing the city from a wholly new vantage point, not withstanding being that close to the ground. People looked at her, at them as if they were suddenly important. She was no different than she'd been three days earlier, well, not that anyone could notice from the outside, and suddenly she was worth their gaze? Because of a car? She'd always known that people were selfish, and self-centered and fickle like that, but to have that manifestation staring her right in the face, well, it made her feel queasy. She looked away and focused on the inside of the car instead.

"Miss?" The voice had changed to a softer purr, almost as if the driver could sense her sudden shift in mood somehow.

"Yes?" She answered just as softly.

"Mr. Northman asked me to give you this." He pulled a black envelope from the breast pocket of the tweed blazer he was wearing. Now looking more closely at him Sookie could see how well it fit over his broad shoulders, and they were broad. She took the packet with trembling hands, noticing how long his fingers were, and how perfect the nails, even though they seemed slightly opaque. His hair was cut close to his head, giving the effect of a pale brown halo against skin that was already tanned. He wore a gold earring on the right, the only side she could see, and that put her in the mind of some kind of pirate. She shook the thought away and opened the envelope reverently. A black rectangle of plastic was the only content, a card, with the name of Eric's club, Fangtasia on it, and her name, Sookie Stackhouse, on the bottom left, just below a series of sixteen numbers and a computer chip. Sookie wasn't daft, she knew exactly what it was; a credit card, in her name.

"Mr. Northman said you're to use that for shopping today." He handed her a pen with his right hand, while keeping his left one on the wheel. "Sign it so that it's official." She did just that and handed back the pen, hardly able to keep the tears from forming in her eyes.

"Why is he doing this for me Quinn?"

"I couldn't say Miss." His voice was still the comfortable one, soothing like a cat curled in your lap. "I think you're very important to him is all."

"But what does he want from me?"

"Again, I couldn't say. But whatever it is maybe you should know that Eric Northman is not the type of man to force someone into something they don't want. He has enough people that want to work for him," he got quieter just then, "or who want to be with him, that he doesn't need to coerce anyone. Just trust that whatever it is that he does want it will ultimately still be your choice."

The way he said the words made Sookie believe that he really did know what he was speaking about, without even going into his head.

"Now where can I take you Miss?"

**Next Chapter, the date.**


	17. Chapter 17

What was that you asked? Longer chapters? Well I live to serve.

I hope you enjoy these words, and thanks again to CH and the Chatsy girls who keep me going.

Merick

Part 17

She had felt more than self-conscious driving around in the car, and even a little queasy at buying more things with Eric Northman's money. But she knew in her heart that Eric was right, and as much as part of her wanted to just go back to her horrible apartment to collect up her regular things, she could hear his words asking her if anything there was really important to her, which it wasn't, and telling her that she should leave it behind. She saw the sense in it metaphorically, or she tried to see the sense in it, but it was just so expensive to start again, and Quinn had refused to take her to consignment stores, insisting that whatever amount of money she spent would mean very little to Eric. Because after all, he reassured her in that tiger voice of his, Eric Northman had been building a fortune for a thousand years, give or take, a few hundred dollars was nothing compared to that. She'd spent four years saving every penny just so she could live, knowing that one reckless purchase meant another hookup. It was hard for her to just let that mindset go. But, resigned to the good in Eric Northman, Sookie shopped, thinking as much as she could about her good fortune, and trying to devote only a small part of her mind to waiting for the other shoe to drop, because it always had in the past, and that fear was another concrete mindset.

Eric's man Quinn accompanied her most everywhere, and even offered some comments on her clothing choices, not the lingerie, Sookie made certain to leave him outside those stores, he seemed more comfortable with that anyways. He complemented her in a friendly way about her choice of jeans, and remarked that she looked very nice in ivory, and that lace was also becoming, on the blouses, nothing else. Sookie found him a pleasant companion, and never once had cause to see him in a negative light, and she did make a point to check into his head periodically out of habit. Not one inappropriate thought popped into his mind, only a spark of jealousy that made her smile a bit as Quinn thought how lucky Eric was to have found such a lovely young woman to keep company with. And that was even how he thought about it, as keeping company; the idea of Eric using her for sex never even entered his thoughts. He had abject faith in both of them it seemed. That or he was well enough trained to not think about things which were not any concern of his. Either or, Sookie was so pleased that he didn't look down on her, except in the obvious ways, being as he was nearly as tall as Eric.

Quinn left her at the hotel, after helping unload all her bags from the efficiently packed, minimal trunk space. A bellhop was there before the roar of the engine even died away to help, and he was rewarded with a decent tip from Quinn. Apparently Eric's personal preferences rubbed off on his employees too. She waved goodbye to the man, still a bit of an enigma to her, but not in a bad way she decided, and she went up to her rooms to sort out everything she'd bought, and to figure out where she wanted to go with Eric that evening, as he had left it up to her. There were still a few hours until sunset, and so she set her alarm and treated herself to a little nap, throwing open the curtains in the bedroom and letting the sun wash over her as she lay right in the middle of the bed, the duvet mounding around her like a cloud.

When she woke she had the most perfect idea of what she and Eric could do on their outing. She wasn't ready to call it a date yet, and besides, there were some unpleasant connotations to that word in her profession that took the pleasure out of the connotation. The sun was only just setting so she showered first and changed into a pair of jeans, and the ruffled top that Quinn had commented on, and then she went to get her phone.

It still only had the three numbers on it, and seeing Jason's name there made her tremble, but she selected the first, Eric's, and took a deep breath before pressing the 'call' button. He answered immediately, as if he had been waiting with his own phone in his hand.

"Eric Northman?" He tried to keep his voice business-like, but he knew the ringtone assigned to the phone he had given Sookie, and it was hard to keep the veil of anticipation out of it.

"Hello Eric, it's Sookie here." He felt himself immediately soften.

"Well good evening. Did you have an enjoyable day Sookie?" He wondered if Quinn had treated her properly and hoped that he had made the correct choice in sending the Were out there to accompany her. He had not received a report from Quinn, though he hadn't checked his inbox, his first priority had been that phone call, and he had eschewed all else waiting for it.

"He was very nice Eric, and very polite. Thank you again for everything you've done. I am going to have to give you back the credit card though."

"Why? Was there a problem with it? Do you need a bigger limit, I can arrange that in minutes."

"No Eric, it's just that it's too much. You don't need to do all of this for me."

"We'll talk about it later Sookie. You can argue with me, and I will politely pretend to listen to your concerns, and then I will insist that you keep it anyways." He began to laugh, his informal answer, which had popped into his head just then amused him, and the level of comfort he felt in saying it astonished him just a little, in a good way. Sookie Stackhouse was good for him, not that he would have ever spoken that way to Pam, or an employee. Sookie was laughing too, and he felt that was a very good thing.

"Very well then Eric. I'll let you win."

"I always win. Have you decided where we are going tonight? I can buy out a theatre so we can watch a movie in peace, or I can book a restaurant if you want to eat?" He had taken a great deal of time to think on what Sookie had said before they had parted, about the difficulty she had with crowds, and though she maintained that it was because of the noise in her head, he did not believe that that was the full reason for her hesitance, not that he intended to question her on it. But her answer to the inquiry surprised him.

"Do you own a pair of jeans Eric?" His curiosity was piqued.

"I do." He answered warily, hoping that the evening would not involve something Country and Western.

"Can you wear them?"

"I can." He was still hesitant, "Do I need a hat of any sort?"

"No, no hat, just maybe some comfortable shoes?" That note made him feel a little better.

"You have me quite intrigued Sookie, may I ask where we are going?"

"Can I keep it a bit of a surprise, so you don't have time to talk me out of it?"

"As you wish. But I did tell you this was your choice, as long as it doesn't involve me dancing in a round or a square I will not try to talk you out of it. Now, when shall I come and pick you up?"

"Anytime I guess. You aren't bringing that Ferrari again are you?"

"Would you like me to?"

"No, please, not that it isn't a lovely car, but something more sedate, if you have something?"

"I have several somethings at my disposal. I will choose a more appropriate vehicle. And I will see you in thirty minutes or so?"

"I'll be in the lobby."

Stripping out of his silk pajama pants Eric washed up and began to sort through his walk-in closet to find a pair of suitably casual jeans and a pressed black shirt to go with them. Despite his concern with the country western genre, he did own a cowboy hat, a gift from another sheriff on the news of his ascension into the role himself. A poor attempt at a joke at the time, it had been relegated to the back of the closet, but if Sookie had indeed wanted him to wear it, he knew that he would have, at least briefly, because it would have made her smile, and he very much wanted to do that. The way he had made her a focal point of his life did not really bother him as he thought on it, but he was above chiding himself about obsessions. He rarely had them, and when they did come around he enjoyed the challenge of them and the rush of emotions they brought. They made him feel alive; and that was a very pleasant sensation for him in a world where so very little brought him true joy, (or perhaps animation was the better word?) Yes, he mused as he set his cuff links, Sookie Stackhouse made him feel things. And while some of her words had brought back memories he had wanted to forget, even that kind of feeling was something.

He smiled to himself as he thought of her beside the massive bulk of Quinn, the Were-Tiger in the ostentatious Spider. He'd bought it on a whim, something to drive fast when the desire took him. It was somewhat less useful in the United States where the troopers enforced the speed limits more vigorously than other countries. He allowed himself the fond memory of Germany and the autobahn, now that had been fun, with no police officers to have to glamour. But, as Sookie had requested, he took down the keys to the Lexus as he walked through the entrance hall of his house. It was still sporty enough, and fast but was more subtle to the naked eye, and, he thought, less likely to embarrass Sookie, wherever it was that they were going. That mystery was a good kind of mystery, quite in contrast to the mystery of Bill Compton and what he was going to do next, but at least Eric knew he wouldn't be doing anything that evening, except possibly playing board games with the queen and attempting to artfully doge her attentions. He pushed Bill out of his mind, tonight was about taking another step with Sookie, not about being rushed because he felt he had to outmaneuver a rival.

She was waiting for him just as she'd said she would be, at the front doors of the hotel, still pulled away from the boys who were working out there and standing on her own, just sort of tucked up beside a planter. Her smiles for him were always genuine and the one she wore as she realized it was he in the black sedan was no different.

"Hello Sookie." He came around to open her door for her, the valet backing off as he saw Eric's six foot four frame emerge from the driver's side. "You look lovely."

"Thank you." She blushed and slid into the car quickly, hiding her eyes from him. He loved the color of pink that threatened her cheeks. Everything about her was just so 'alive'.

"So where are we going?"

"Have you ever heard of Cross Lake?"

"I have, it's just a bit west of the city isn't it?"

"I believe so. Would it be all right if we went out there Eric?"

"Is there some kind of festival or concert happening?" Eric was remotely aware that the small lake hosted such things, besides the fishing derbies, and he doubted they were going fishing.

"No, nothing at all. I just wondered if we could just have a walk around the beach, and see the cypress trees and the water?"

"If that's what you want Sookie, of course."

"And it won't cost anything except some gasoline." She added.

"Sookie, you don't have to worry about money." He began to tell her, but she stopped him by turning in her seat to look directly at him as he adjusted his seatbelt. He stopped as her blue eyes met his own.

"But I do worry, and I will worry, and this isn't all about money. It's just that," she paused for a breath, "I've never walked on a beach before, and I don't get out of the city, and it sounds so peaceful."

"Then that is where we will go." Eric put the car in gear, and then let his hand cross to the passenger seat where he rested it lightly on Sookie's. He could feel her pulse through her skin, and hear the quickening of her heartbeat. "Would you like to tell me now why I should have the credit card back?"

The parking lot was empty, which was just as Eric had suspected it might be. Without an event Cross Lake was sparsely populated during the night, except by those who owned property there, it was perfect for Sookie, who still felt safest in the quiet. He was at her door, opening it and offering her a hand to rise before she had her seatbelt undone. And he watched as she grabbed up the larger bag she seemed to have acquired and swung her legs out of the Lexus. As soon as she took his hand he enfolded it in his much larger one, and held it tight, not letting go even after she was securely on her feet.

"And where shall we go?"

She pointed to a marked path that purported to lead down to a section of the public beachfront, and he led her that way, using his exquisite night vision to ensure that her footfalls were not tripped up by a root or other such encumbrance in the path. The route was not long and soon it opened up to a stretch of sand that looked out over the dark blue water, accented by the light of the moon and the stars that had risen in the night sky. He heard her draw in a breath of wonder at the sight, and found that its beauty was enhanced for him by just seeing it through her eyes.

"It's so beautiful Eric."

"It is." Though he was not honestly referring to the lake. "Shall we walk on the sand for awhile?"

"Yes please." She stepped onto the shifting grains, and immediately kicked off her shoes, bending awkwardly to pick them up because Eric would not let go of her. He slipped out of his own shoes, enjoying the warmth on the soles of his feet, though not as much as the warmth Sookie shared with him. They walked along the shoreline, letting the sand drift around their toes, and Eric watched Sookie as she strained to see everything. The cypress trees reached from water's edge into the shallows, their heavily laden branches seeming to reach down to the water in green cascades to contrast the blue. Every so often a subtle splash would break the silence betraying the life in the lake, just below the surface. Even though they were not far from the city it seemed a whole different world out there, just the two of them. It even smelled different, and Eric began to appreciate the scents of the city that had become so commonplace for him that he hardly noticed them any longer. He certainly noticed their absence and he wondered why he had never taken the time to come out there before.

"You are so quiet Sookie, is everything as you hoped it would be?"

"Exactly." She whispered, and sniffled just a little.

"Sookie? Are you crying?"

"No." But he knew she was lying, and he stopped her forward progress by pulling on her hand just gently.

"Tell me what had upset you?"

"It's silly."

"Nothing that makes you cry is silly, not to me."

"My childhood should have been like this." She gestured around to the lake, "There should have been family trips like this, and bonfires, and sunsets and marshmallows. But I didn't get anything like this." She sobbed, trying to hold the noise behind her hand; the one still holding her sandals.

"You have it now." And he guided her to his chest, not prepared to force her into his embrace if she did not wish it, but she allowed herself to be folded into his arms.

"I don't need it now." Her voice was muffled in his shirt.

"Yes, I think maybe you do Sookie." He felt her tremble, and then sigh as she forced herself to pull it together to finally look up at him again, pursing together her lips in a half a smile. He found that he very much enjoyed the feel of her body that close to his, and he could smell her hair, not just the perfumes of the shampoo that had been provided for her, but the sunshine and life of her natural beauty. It made him wistful, something else he found he enjoyed.

"Will you tell me about when you were a child Eric?" Her voice was so quiet and hesitant, and Eric froze for just a second, not understanding her request.

"A vampire child or a mortal one?"

"When you were a little boy, before you grew up and before you became a vampire?"

Eric released a breath he had not needed to hold and clutched at her hand a little tighter. Had she asked him about his first few years as a vampire he did not know what he would have said to her; the memories were not pleasant ones, and though they were a foray into a much deeper kinship with Sookie, just as she was not ready to call her brother yet with the truth, neither was he ready to give voice to his own demons.

"It was a long time ago Sookie."

"Do you remember it?"

"I remember everything." His answer sounded darker to his own ears than he had meant it to, but there was no taking it back.

"Was it a good time for you?" She tried to encourage him.

"It was wonderful."

"Tell me?"

"I grew up by the ice of the North Sea, in my father's hall. I was raised to be a warrior, and from the time I could hold a weapon I received instruction. At first it was just play, chasing the dogs around and swinging sticks at the other children, all of us boys pretending to be the gods of our legends, with our axes and hammers and swords."

"It sounds blissful."

"Perhaps not as idyllic as it might seem. I took many of those sticks to the head in the beginning, and took many bites from the dogs, until I learned speed and stealth. I also took my share of lungfuls of that cold salt water." He laughed at the pictures that flooded into his head. "As I grew, those sticks turned to real weapons, and the injuries from those hurt more than just my pride."

"And what would you do on nights like this, would you stand out and watch the water?"

"I would, and dream of boats and adventures, and pretty girls." He laughed, and she joined him. "There were so many stories of heroes and gods, and we all believed that they were true and that our deeds would be told like theirs some day, around a fire."

"Will you tell me a story Eric? Something from your childhood?"

"Of course. Come and sit." He pulled her back, away from the shore a bit, to almost the edge of the tree line, and he helped her to sit on the ground, facing out to the lake so she could continue to watch the water. He sat in behind her, and very carefully ran his hands over the tops of her crossed legs, coming to rest atop the sand beside them, hoping that the action would cause her to rest her back against his chest. But she did not relax and instead dug around in her bag pulling out a glass jar.

"What do you have there?"

"It isn't a fire, but it is a candle. You don't mind if I light it do you?" He didn't quite understand her motives, but he thought the gesture was touching because it meant something to her. It put him in the mind of the brass candleholders in her private room, and he wondered if it wasn't another focal point of meditation for her.

"Of course not."

She sparked up a match and lit the tiny flame. It hardly cast enough light to see his own fingertips, but he could tell by the tilt of her face that she was looking at it quite intently. He began to speak.

"Let me tell you of how the day and the night came to be made Sookie, the way my mother told it to me around our hearth at night." She nodded and let her shoulders relax just a little.

"It was before the mortals came to Midgard, what we know as Earth, in a place called Jotunheim, the land of the giants, a land connected to Asgard, home of the gods by the branches of the world tree called Yggdrasil. A giant named Narfi lived in Jotunheim, and he was blessed with a beautiful daughter who was called Night. Night was unlike the other women of the heavens in appearance for her hair was dark and her skin was dark, and she wore stars in her long tresses that made her glow and seem all the more beautiful. Many men wished to be with Night and so it came to pass that she took three lovers, one after the other."

"Your mother would tell you stories about women and their lovers?"

"Well, she called them husbands, but I understood the meaning all the same." He kept his voice low, they way he remembered his mother's voice as she wove the tales.

"The first lover Night took was known as Naglfari or Darkling, and she bore him a son and he was called Space. Her second lover was a god, Odin, have you heard of him Sookie? He was called the Val-Father because of his connection to Valhalla I think, or the All-Father, because he was the leader of the gods of Asgard, and Night bore him a beautiful daughter named Earth." At that Eric chanced to move his face in a little closer to Sookie, and to take a breath of her hair again. His mother had described Earth in terms of the women of their tribe, blond, and blue eyed, with healthy tanned skin and strong shoulders, as well as their soft hands, and he thought just then that she could have been describing Sookie. She seemed to feel his presence then and finally did rest back against him. Suddenly he could not only hear her measured heartbeat, but could feel it through the lace of the blouse she wore. And her warmth and life made him tremble just a little himself.

"Her third lover was called Delling, which means Dawn, and she bore him a son who was named Day, and was called bright and fair, just as his father was.

The gods became aware of Night and her handsome children and they, being Beloved of the gods were given a place in the heavens. The span of the day as we know it was divided into two, and half was given to the light and half was given to the dark. The gods gave Night, and her son Day beautiful chariots and a pair of horses each and sent them into the heavens to drive around Earth, one after the other." Eric let his hand rise from its place over the sand to just brush down Sookie's cheek, unable to keep from touching her somehow. She sighed and turned into the caress.

"Night's lead horse was called Frostymane, and as he pulled the chariot and champed at the bit in his mouth his spittle fell to the Earth to coat the leaves and flowers in dew that can still be seem as the dawn approaches."

"Like on the cypress branches." Sookie mused in a whisper.

"Just like that, yes Sookie." He turned his lips to her ear and breathed his response to her. "Behind his mother, Day rides, drawn in his chariot by Shiningmane, his stallion. The brightness of his form and that of his chariot and horses brings light to the Earth and the sky. They ride in the firmament still, each day and night to bring us the changes here on Midgard Sookie." He wanted to kiss her then, truly, properly kiss her. The nearness of her soft body was almost too much to bear, coupled with the desperate need he felt in his chest to give her some kind of happiness to make up for everything she had suffered. But she suddenly stiffened, and he heard the source of her alarm at almost the same time.

"Someone is coming." They whispered almost in unison, her voice suddenly filled with fear. She capped the little jar candle so it sputtered out almost immediately.

"Hang on to me." He told her, turning her in his arms quickly. In a split second leap he had them both hurtling into the air, coming to rest in amongst the draping green branches. He held her waist tightly and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"You can fly?"

"I can."

"Can all vampires fly?"

"Can all humans sing?"

"Are you kidding, I couldn't carry a tune in a bucket with a lid on it." He wanted to laugh, but he did not want to be overheard.

"How did you know someone was coming Eric?"

"I could hear him. We have very good hearing, Vampires." He did not need to ask how Sookie knew he was approaching. "Who is he?"

"He's a Park Ranger." Eric watched as she closed her eyes, concentrating on the solitary mind. "He's checking to see if there are any kids out here, partying or drinking. I don't think he'll be long, he really just wants to get back in his truck and finish listening to the game from the west coast."

"I can wait."

He watched as she turned her gaze from him; taking it all in stride in that way she seemed to, he'd have thought that suddenly finding oneself suspended in mid air might have rattled her, but if it had, she didn't show it.

"Can you go higher?"

"Yes." He carefully levitated them through the concealment of the branches till they were free of the leaves and could look up at the darkened sky.

"Are the stars the same as you remember them Eric?" She was looking up, her head thrown back, exposing her long white neck, he could almost see the blood pulse in the veins beneath her skin, it sang to him. He closed his own eyes, just so he could regain enough control of himself not to run out his fangs. She might not have been frightened by the fact that he could fly, but his hunger would certainly not be taken so calmly.

"The stars are constant Sookie." Certainly they had shifted some over the thousand years since he had first gazed on them, but he was no astronomer, and to him the lights were just as bright and the pictures they painted just the same.

"The same ones Night wove into her hair Eric?" She looked back at him, blue eyes capturing his in a liquid gaze that he could not break. He might not be able to glamour her, but she certainly could glamour him it seemed.

"The very same." He whispered, quite entranced. She looked at him, her lips slightly parted, her breathing moving her body subtly against his without speaking; searching his face it seemed for something wordless. He returned the deep gaze, trying to look inside her just as completely, and then, carefully, slowly, so that she would have time to bow her head, or turn away from him, he brought his mouth down on hers, and pressed against her lips in a paintbrush stroke, parting them just a little further and breathing with her, just so he could feel her life force in his chest. And he held her there, with him, hovering under the stars, grinding so delicately against her lips. He did not seek to deepen the kiss, or to taste her with his tongue; he simply shared the moment, a wonderful, long moment before he backed away and she let her head fall against his chest with a drawn out shudder, and still he held her.

Reviews are my crack; please, I need a fix?


	18. Chapter 18

Part 18

Though his face betrayed nothing Bill Compton was seething with anger. He'd delivered his parcel to the Queen, and just as Eric had likely planed, and he had feared, she had insisted that he stay for the rest of the night and amuse her with his company. At any other time he would have been pleased to stay at court and learn what he could about the goings on in the Queendom, but not this night. He had a plan, one he had wanted to set in motion sooner rather than later, and losing a night to Eric Northman galled him. He knew that Eric would be out with Sookie, weaving his own stories for her so that she would believe herself to be falling for him. Bill though was more pragmatic, he didn't need the girl to love him, just to commit herself to him in some way, hopefully through a sense of obligation, and a little blood and sex wouldn't displease him either. But he resigned himself to the predicament he found himself in, and contributed to the conversations as was appropriate. He said nothing about Sookie, or her abilities or about his Sheriff, not wanting to be caught out in any kind of deception. Sookie Stackhouse was going to be his, and he was going to rise to his own power through her, power even greater than the Queen he sat beside right then, if he played his cards correctly. The thought of it made him smile, even if he was going to have to wait one more night, it was all going to be worth it, just to take Eric Northman to the ground.

She'd been very quiet on the whole ride back to the hotel and Eric Northman worried that perhaps he had pushed his luck just one thread too far when he'd taken to the sky with Sookie in his arms, and when he had kissed her. He wanted so much not to regret what he'd done, because it had been an honest expression of his feelings, and while some of the action had been impulse, much had simply been the opportunity given voice. Her body had been so soft pressed against him, and had felt so innocent, and so gloriously sweet. He played over the feelings in his mind, with each pass though what had transpired giving him the same delicious gut tightening sensation. He hoped and waited for some type of clue that she would not want to flee from him that night when he brought her back to the hotel, and he deliberately turned the car off when he pulled into the circular drive around one in the morning and walked around to open her door for her. She rose, looking mostly at the ground, not at him, and the action made him nervous.

"Sookie?" He whispered softly. Only then did she meet his gaze. With one hand he shooed away the valet that he saw approaching them. "Have I done wrong by you?" he asked.

"No." She answered, even more quietly than he had.

"Would you like to talk?" He knew he could not leave her until he had some idea of what was running through her mind.

She nodded, biting her lower lip in a way that was so charming that he would have kissed her again right there if he thought that the action would bring no harm. He tossed the keys to the valet then, and offered her his hand. The fact that she took it, and allowed him to lead her into the lobby made him feel marginally better.

He had no intention of going up to her room and requesting the invitation to enter from her. Instead he went to the bar, where the room they had always used was once again free; or was made free as the hostess saw them enter. Drinks were hastily poured for them both, which pleased Eric, good tips made for good service, and right then he didn't want to have to think about anything but Sookie. He watched as she sat and took up her drink, looking at him as if she expected the same from him. He complied.

"A toast?" She asked, as if the action with one glass of champagne and one of blood was the most normal thing in the world to her. Her adaptability both pleased and saddened him because while he appreciated that she could fit herself into unknown situations with ease, he wondered which role she was playing for him then, herself, or some construct that she believed he wanted to see.

"And what shall we toast to this night Sookie?" He could see her hand shaking and clenched his teeth together to still his worry.

"To the stars?" She offered.

"To the stars then." And they both drank.

"I am sorry Sookie."

"For what?"

"I should not have been as forward with you as I was. I hope you will forgive me."

"Eric, you've done nothing wrong. This is all me." He could almost see her lips trembling.

"How can it be you? It is my actions that have caused you this distress."

"Your actions were," she stopped and looked at him, her eyes telling him that she was searching for the right words. "Your actions were wonderful." She said very shyly. He felt his heart lift. "Everything for me is just so upside down Eric."

"I will try to help you, if you will let me."

"I don't know if you can 'fix' me Eric. I don't know what to feel."

"I don't want to 'fix' you Sookie. Just show you the right path and be there to help you if you stumble."

"Why?"

"Because I understand your pain. In a thousand years I have seen much and felt much, I want to believe that something in my experience will make a difference to you." There was a great deal more behind his words that Eric was not ready to tell her, but he felt more certain just then that he would tell her, and not just as part of a plot to bring her to his side.

"I still don't understand why you are doing all this for me Eric."

"Come out with me to my club tomorrow night, let me show you more of who I am." It wasn't exactly an answer, but Eric didn't have a proper one put together in his head just then, and whatever it was that he did say to her, had to be perfect.

"Fangtasia?" She asked.

"Yes, there will be other Vampires there, as well as humans, but I promise that if it becomes uncomfortable for you that we will leave, you only have to tell me."

"Okay." She nodded her head and took another long drink of the champagne. Eric could see her wrinkle her nose as the bubbles tickled it. He so wanted to reach out and touch her, just to be a part of that wholly human gesture. Vampires aren't ticklish.

"What should I wear?"

"Anything you choose will be beautiful Sookie."

"Should I take a taxi over at sunset?"

"I will send Quinn to fetch you if you like?"

"Could you come yourself? If it isn't too much trouble?"

"If that is what you wish, then I most certainly will."

"Eric?"

"Yes Sookie?"

"What is going to happen to me?" She looked at him seriously.

"Whatever you want to happen to you Sookie. I will not force you to do anything."

"But I don't know what to do."

"Well, what is it that you don't want to do?"

Her voice got really small, Eric could see her physically contracting her body as some sort of protection, and she dropped her gaze to the floor. "I don't want to go back to the streets Eric." The pain and the fear that laced her voice was more than he could bear and he crossed to her immediately, kneeling in front of her chair, pushing the table out of the way effortlessly.

"And you never will Sookie, I can promise you that." He took both her hands in his and looked earnestly into her eyes. He could not help but feel how she trembled with even that slight touch and how her heart raced.

"But I don't know anything else Eric."

"I do." And he bought both her hands to his mouth, and kissed each one, chastely, in turn. Her life force was so obvious to him as his lips met her soft skin and he fought against all the urges he had to pull her into his arms again. Her warmth and the vague scent of her blood were intoxicating. Tears began to roll down her cheeks and he released her hands so that she could dab at them again. When she drew his linen handkerchief from her pocket, the one he had pressed on her the first time they had met, he felt something stick in his throat.

"Come to the club with me Sookie, let me show you a different world." Again she nodded.

"I'll wait for you outside just as I did tonight." She tucked the linen away again in her pocket, and he watched her close her eyes and force the emotions back inside as she had done before. It hurt him to see that kind of protection, because he knew that all the pain was just bottled up inside somewhere, and that one day it would explode. He wished above all else that he could teach her to find the permission to forgive herself for everything that had happened, because he knew that she was feeling that angst along with everything else, as she looked out at the world beyond the room they had there, and beyond the circle of protection that he could offer her.

"I will be on time." He promised.

She had been so unsure of what to do; from the moment his lips had pulled away from hers till the moment then, standing in front of her hotel room door. It had been like a dream, finding herself in his arms, hovering above the ground, not that she'd ever had a dream like that, and when he had looked at her, his eyes all soft and shimmery like, she just sort of felt like she knew what was going to happen, and when it did she let herself be lost in it. It wasn't as if she'd never kissed anyone before, or had never been kissed, but she'd never done it because she'd wanted to or let it continue because it felt 'right'. It was so different than the 'passions' that the men thought they were sharing with her. Their kisses were sloppy and wet and sickeningly warm as they pushed themselves against her. They would force their tongues into her mouth, thinking they were getting her aroused when it was just the opposite. Everything about their actions made her cold, even though she acted just as they expected she would. But Eric's kiss, it was something she had never even considered.

His lips were cool, not cold like ice, but like the skin of your hands when you bring them to your mouth in the winter, to blow warm breath on them to keep yourself from shivering. And they were soft, not slicked with spittle. He touched her so carefully, seeming more interested in the contact than the force. And he tasted, not like alcohol or stale tobacco, but like night, she thought, crisp and clean, maybe like the stars he had told her about in the story.

No one had ever sat with her and told her a story like he had, not that she could remember, though she wanted to think that her parents might have done it, before she lost them. And no one had ever sought out her hand like he had, holding it as much as he had, and doing it to comfort her, not to drag her somewhere. She could honestly believe that he wanted to guide her, and just that desire to believe scared the hell out of her. And again he had sat with her while she'd cried and then offered to walk her back to her room; he was such a gentleman, assuring her safety. Now they stood there in front of her door and she couldn't even begin to understand what her gut was trying to tell her.

He was there before her, unmoving, looking down at her face as she searched desperately for the right thing to do, afraid of saying the wrong thing, making the wrong gesture to him so that he would pull away, or perhaps pull too close. She settled on locking eyes with him and raising her right hand to bring it to rest along the side of his face, cupping his strong jaw in her palm. She parted her lips, needing the extra breath to strengthen herself. She felt his hand come to rest atop hers once again and press it closer to his cheek, turning his head into its grasp.

"Eric I want to ask you something but I am afraid." She admitted.

"I will never do anything to hurt you Sookie, please do not be afraid of me. You may ask me anything."

"Eric? Will you please kiss me again?" She threw caution to the wind and could hardly believe she'd be able to summon up the courage to say it out loud.

The smile that spread across his face was wondrous in its simple joy she thought, but more wondrous was the touch of his lips, again soft and cool and this time even more enchanting as he bent his face to her and she lifted hers to him. His free hand reached out to wrap around her waist and to pull her body towards his; it was so astonishing to have these feelings she had never felt before, beyond the ache in her gut and the trembling of her chest. She wanted, wanted more than she had ever dared to in her entire life and she pushed her mouth against him. His lips parted and she darted her tongue between them, deepening the kiss herself, desperate to know what he would do. She felt the startled tremor of his body and then a brief sting, quickly forgotten as his tongue met hers and twined with it, pulling them even closer, his arms enfolding her against his body as if he might not let go. Only when she needed to take more than a gasp of breath did she finally pull back from him, and even that was with regret. She knew her whole body was trembling with the energy of the kiss, and she knew that he could feel it. Again she pressed her head into the strength of his chest and let herself just be there for another few moments.

"Will you dream tonight Sookie?" He whispered into her hair as he buried his face into the lengths of it.

"I will."

"Will you dream of me?"

"Yes."

He kissed the top of her head softly and squeezed her carefully and then let her go. She hesitated, wanting her racing heart to slow so that she could think. But no matter how many steadying breaths she took it would not. She fumbled with her key card and finally his long fingers took it from her tremulous grasp and fit it into the door slot, and with the green light he pushed the door open and held the card out for her to take.

"I will see you soon." He said softly. "I hope you sleep well." Then he added as an after thought as she took up the card and put her hand out onto the door, "If you wish to call me later tonight, if you cannot sleep, I will be up late." He smiled and she felt her heart leap. Nodding she turned her gaze from him demurely and went into her room, the door closed behind her and she shut the bolt with shaking fingers.

The door closed and Eric Northman took a staggered step backwards, and then two more till he could feel the solid opposing wall behind his back, and then he sank to his haunches, crouched, holding his head in his hands, wishing desperately that he too could take breaths to steady himself, just as he had heard her try to do. She hadn't realized it likely, or if she had she hadn't understood it, but when she had darted her tongue past his lips the surprise brought with it an arousal he had not been prepared for, and his fangs had dropped wholly beyond his control. He had not even been able to gather his thoughts together quickly enough to guide her soft flesh away from the points and she had scratched herself against one and the taste of her, scant as the wound was, had nearly overwhelmed him. While he had desired to taste her blood he had never imagined that it would be so soon, and in such an unexpected manner. It had been glorious, and it had been all he could do to keep from crushing her, and forcing his mouth against her even harder, desperately seeking to draw out more of it for himself. Even as they had broken apart he found he had to find the scent of something else, her hair, her skin, to keep himself focused or he would have pressed her for the invitation to her room where he would have made love to her and tasted her over and over until they were both spent. Even now, as he looked at the door he fought the urge to go to it and knock and beg her for admittance.

Her blood, something in her blood brought him memories, memories of something he had never thought he would encounter again, and he forced himself to think on them, to drive the desperate need of her from his chest. His dead heart felt warm, as he understood one more of Sookie Stackhouse's secrets, though he doubted if she had any idea at all about her true nature. The sweetness of the liquid, the hint of the supernatural and Eric was transported to a time in his distant past when he had tasted such a taste before, but without the accompanying emotional and physical needs she roused in him. Sookie Stackhouse was part Fairy, and that added knowledge only made his yearning for her greater. He didn't understand it, he wasn't even able to try to understand it, there were so many things racing around in his mind that he wasn't able to order them or make sense of them, not least-wise while he was sat in the hallway staring at her door, willing her to come back and open it to him. He strained to hear her heartbeat and her footfall but it only faded from his range. And finally, when it seemed obvious that she was not coming back that night, and that he looked ridiculous on the floor, only then did he stand and finally walk away, with a heaviness on his shoulders that he had not felt in a very long time.


	19. Chapter 19

Fangtasia was all but deserted when he arrived, which was just fine by Eric. He didn't feel the need to humor fangbangers who presented themselves to him, practically on a platter, or to amuse himself with the dancers. It was only Pam, sitting by herself at the bar as he walked in the front doors. She looked up at him, swiveling in her seat as he passed by, on his way to his office.

"Three nights in a row Eric?" She asked in her nearly irritating nasal twang, the one she reserved for berating him. "Her blood must be amazing." He kept walking. "That or she is an incredibly good fuck." That stopped him and he turned back to her, fangs drawn with a deep snarl.

"What she is, or isn't is none of your god-damned business Pam!"

She simply grinned at his outburst, an action that made him want to smack the smile off her face.

"Bring me the take from tonight!" He ordered, not dignifying her response with further effort. The characterization had cut him, and he wasn't used to that feeling; and it was not the first time he could have said that over the last few days.

"Yes master." He heard her whisper, knowing full well he could hear her. Some days she infuriated him, others, she was just mildly irritating, but she was also his child, his only child, and he loved her, and trusted her. That was why she was waiting for him, and why it was her that brought in the cash from the till for the night. Something was happening with the finances of the bar, and Vampire culture and common sense did not simply allow Eric to accuse the person he thought responsible for the irregularities, he needed proof, and doing his own, second count of everything was hopefully going to provide him with just that. The drive over, at a human pace, and the distance he'd placed between himself and Sookie had given him the opportunity to refocus himself on the matters of his club; certainly less enticing, but deserving of his attention just the same. Pam followed a few steps behind him, into his office and set a blue bankers bag down in front of him. She sat herself down heavily on the love seat and stared at him.

"Yes?" He asked, annoyed by her intense gaze. It was distracting as he sorted the bills into piles and the credit card receipts (of which there were very few), into companies.

"With all due respect Eric," he liked the way she began that line of questioning. "What is it with this girl? You seem 'smitten'?"

"I do not get 'smitten' Pam." He replied, quite deadpan, deliberately not looking at her.

"Fine." She swung her feet up over one arm of the seat and crossed her ankles. "But she intrigues you Eric, I just need to know if it is for good or bad?"

"Something I would like the answer to myself Pam." He finally relented to her question, seeing that she was seriously concerned for his wellbeing. "But you may rest easy knowing I am not being hexed or blackmailed or anything of the sort."

"I'm glad." He knew that was sincere. He went back to counting the money. Fortunately with his memory he didn't even need a calculator, or scrap of paper to remember his place and his figures.

"If it makes you happier Pam I have invited her to the club tomorrow, you can meet her for yourself."

"Can she handle herself here Eric?"

"I think she can handle a lot more than she gives herself credit for." He packed the money back into the deposit bag. "Do you have the books from the accountant?"

"PDF's on your desktop." She answered absently, staring at her shoes, though Eric knew they weren't what she was really seeing. She cared as deeply for him as he for her.

"Thank you." He powered up the screen and entered his password. A month's worth of spreadsheets flashed rapidly in front of his eyes and caused the corners of his mouth to drop and his upper lip to curl in a wordless snarl.

"Still doesn't look right?" She asked.

"It isn't right Pam." His fist curled around the edge of his desk, threatening to snap off a corner. He'd long ago discovered that particleboard was not a suitable building material for Vampire furniture and had invested in hardwood.

"Why would he be so sloppy Eric? He has to know that you and I would discover it?" She swung her feet down from the couch and went over to stand by her maker at his desk.

"Perhaps he thinks himself smarter than we two?"

"He is surely not that deluded?"

"We have to talk to the accountant." He told her.

"Yes we do." She agreed.

Eric was doing a masterful job holding in his anger. He had noticed money disappearing from the normal take, and the fact that the orders weren't balancing with the consumed product as per the till for several months back. It was far more than just the occasional complimentary drink and shipping error he had decided. He had begun nightly counts, after his and Pam's other partner in the endeavor had left for the night. He had suspected from the beginning that Longshadow had something to do with the discrepancies, because he knew it would never have been his child, Pam. But Eric Northman was a patient man, and he had put together the records meticulously to determine where the money was going, and how. And it seemed that the accountant was the means to whatever end Longshadow had for the money.

"Shall I get him in here for tomorrow night?"

"No. Not tomorrow." He didn't say it out loud, that Sookie was going to be there and that he did not want her witnessing whatever might transpire, (it was not the different world he wanted to introduce her to), but it was what he felt. And besides, he reasoned to himself in the few seconds it took him to give his orders to Pam, a telepath would present an interesting opportunity for discovery from the mortal accountant, certainly more viable as evidence than glamouring the man. "Make it Saturday night Pam, I have something in mind for him, and don't give him or Longshadow any notice, I don't want them to have the time to prepare anything."

"Or to run." She muttered, matching the smile on Eric's face. He knew that they were of one mind about the whole issue, even if her mind was missing the information about Sookie's skills. He loved that she trusted him the way she did, far beyond the master/child relationship that dictated how she would follow his orders.

"Do you need me anymore tonight Eric?"

"No that's fine, thank you."

"I'm meeting up with a few girlfriends, you're welcome to come along for a bite, if you'd like? I'm sure they'd enjoy it."

"No, thank you, I have a few more things I want to do around here first Pam. But you enjoy yourself."

"When was the last time you ate Eric?"

"I ate earlier tonight."

"So, her blood is something special?"

"It is indeed Pam. And I'll thank you not to frighten her too much with your 'enthusiasm' tomorrow."

"I'll be on my best behavior Eric."

"And that is what frightens me Pam." He said with a laugh, which she matched, their friendship restored from the momentary ire. As far as Pam was concerned she knew that he had claimed Sookie as his. If only it could be that easy for the rest of the vampires. Pam waved her fingers at him as she left him to his thoughts in the office. He waited until he heard her close the back door before pulling out his phone.

His lawyer was on speed dial, and wasn't wholly human himself, so he worked hours to match his clients. The phone call in the middle of the night would not be unexpected, and with the retainer that Eric paid, not unwelcome either. The deep voice answered on the second ring. He answered his own phone; Eric had always appreciated that in Mr. Cataliades.

"Mr. Northman, how pleasant to hear from you."

"And a good evening to you sir, I wonder if I might ask you to give me some information?"

"But of course, anything I can assist you with Mr. Northman."

"I need to know the statute of limitations for childhood sexual assault in Louisiana." The line went quiet for a moment.

"Should I be inquiring as to why you need to know this Mr. Northman?"

"I can assure you that the inquiry is not out of concern for something that I have done."

"Excellent, I am happy to hear that."

"An acquaintance of mine may have been in that situation a few years ago and I would like to be able to give her some advice on the matter."

"You have interesting acquaintances."

"Be that as it may, does it matter that four years have passed?"

"Not in this state. How old is your friend?"

"Eighteen."

"Having just turned the age of majority she has another ten years to begin any type of proceeding against him. I assume it is a she and a him?"

"Yes."

"A new law was put on the books in '93 so that adult victims can still come forward on their own, even if the abuse occurred when they were children."

"Excellent."

"Did you wish me to begin drafting something Mr. Northman?"

"Not just yet, but perhaps in a few days."

"I will await your call then. Were there any other matters I could be of service with?"

"Again, perhaps in a few days I will need your assistance with a rental agreement of sorts, but I will finalize those details as well, and get back to you."

"Wonderful. It's always a pleasure speaking with you."

"And you as well Mr. Cataliades. We will speak soon."

Eric hung up the phone, and settled back in his chair. With the exception of the embezzlement issues, things had gone rather well for him that night as he thought over them. He only wanted to assure himself of the stock count, and then he meant to make his own way home where he could take the time to think on all the matters that required his attention. He had barely reached the door of the stockroom when the phone he had left on his desk began to ring. He hurried back to retrieve it, knowing just who it was, and being quite surprised considering the hour. Had he had more time to think on it he might have been more concerned, but he did not.

"Eric Northman."

"Hi Eric?" The voice still had its exquisite shy quality, even over the phone.

"Hello Sookie." He sat back down on the edge of his desk.

"I'm not bothering you am I?"

"Of course not. Is everything alright?" The sensations of their recent parting flooded back into the forefront of his thoughts and he almost felt the press of her lips against his again and the taste of her blood. Part of him hoped that she was calling to ask him to return to her, and he felt the muscles in his gut tighten at the thought.

"Everything is fine." She hesitated, which made him curious about what she was thinking. "I just thought of something." She added.

"Yes?"

"I don't think I thanked you for taking me out this evening, out to the lake, and for telling me the story and everything."

"It was my pleasure Sookie."

"Mine too." She whispered. He held back the urge to laugh. "I just thought I'd better let you know how much I appreciated you doing that."

"Then you will go out with me again I assume?"

"Tomorrow, or I guess today," she corrected herself, "I am really excited about seeing your club Eric."

"I am glad I will have the chance to show it to you Sookie. And I am very glad that you called me."

"I thought I was being silly."

"Not at all, you have made me forget some of my own troubles for awhile. And for that I will thank you." He could hear her yawn. "But you should go to sleep Sookie. It is very late."

"I will. I just wanted to say thank you Eric."

"You are welcome Sookie. I will see you soon."

He let her hang up the phone first, juvenile perhaps, but he had no intention of missing any invitation, even if it came on sleep-addled lips. Her call had indeed made him forget, for that moment, the prevailing concerns of the embezzlement and its roots, though he did not let it distract him for too long, he had a count to make.

Sookie had turned on a movie after he'd left because she didn't want to sleep, not that she'd paid it much attention. She had sat, quietly to think about what she was feeling, and to try to sort it all out. She could not remember ever feeling affection for anyone, except Remy, at that McDonalds, who had given her the expired salads all those years back when things had been so desperate, and this was nothing like that. There must have been a proper name for it, but she didn't trust herself with the one that kept coming to mind, and affection would have to be good enough just then. Her mind tried to replay everything that had happened at her doorway, the kiss, his reaction, her reaction, and the way he had asked her if she would dream about him. She wanted to but she didn't even know how to begin. Time and again she brought her fingertips to her lips, imitating the pressure his had made there and she tried to imagine what it would be like, to feel his hands on her skin, even more than the grip he had wrapped her in as they had kissed and flown in the sky. Lying back on the loveseat she tried to steer her mind towards how it would feel to be with him, really be with him, but she couldn't find a place to begin.

There had never been love or desire on her part, ever, there had been necessity and emptiness and pain. There were no memories to begin with, to craft a dream of what it would be like, or should be like. She wanted to imagine how he would come to her, and how he would touch her, and lay down over her, pressing his body to hers, but though every dream started out with beauty it turned into something ugly because she didn't know anything else, and it hurt her so much. Sookie shook the images from her mind, not wanting his face to be associated with anything in her past. It was then that she reached for the phone and dialed Eric, just needing to reassure herself that he was real, and that maybe she did have the right to craft a fantasy with him because she could not deny that she wanted to.

She felt silly calling just to reassure herself, but Eric was the same; polite and charming, and soft-spoken. Just hearing his voice made the butterflies start up in her stomach. And he had asked her again, sort of, about going out with him, and she held onto that like a lifeline, finally crawling into bed, pulling the duvet around herself and closing her eyes.

When she finally did wake the sun was long since risen, and she thought, with a little regret, that Eric would most certainly be asleep, and quite lost to her just then. Not that he belonged to her or anything; he'd just become a major part of her life in only a few days. A look at the bedside clock confirmed that it was past noon, and she lazily pulled herself from the warm bedclothes and into the shower. Her sleep had been peaceful, and she was drying her hair when the significance of the day actually dawned on her. It was Friday. Rent was due on Friday. Her landlord would be going to her apartment that afternoon, knowing she would not be there after the sun went down. He wouldn't find her. She didn't know if he'd wait patiently, or simply let himself in to check for her, and his money. Of course, he'd find nothing, just the rooms she'd tidied up, there wouldn't be any food for him to help himself to, and not even a note. Grace, as he knew her, would simply be gone. It might take him a day or two to really sort out that she wasn't coming back, but for all intents and purposes Grace was dead. Sookie wasn't quite certain how she felt about that, but terrified was a pretty good start.

She hadn't liked the life, she wasn't sorry that it was gone, if it really was gone or it was just the incarnation that had vanished. She wanted it to be gone, but the realist in her kept niggling in the back of her brain that she had no guarantees of anything beyond the night at Fangtasia. But of course she had never really lived for the future, at least not since her parents had died. She lived for the next day, doing what it took to get there and nothing else, and perhaps things didn't have to be any different right away. She wanted to have the peace for one more day, and maybe if she could show Eric that she was worth something, maybe he would offer her another day after that? That meant she had to look beautiful and she took careful time curling her hair in soft waves with her brush and her blowdryer and as she pulled the brush down the strands she looked at herself in the mirror, looking at her neck as the hair fell down over it. Perhaps, she thought, running her fingers over the white length, she should offer her blood to him, her neck was the only virginal thing she could give him, and it just might be important enough to him to buy her the time she wanted. She dug around in the make-up bag and pulled out a brass colored hair clip, practicing pulling her hair up for him.


	20. Chapter 20

A special thank you to everyone who took the time to write such sweet words to me about the story so far. I have tried to respond to everyone, but some folks I can't seem to send messages too. Just know that I appreciate every single word you write to me, and I hope that this next chapter will please you.

Once again, the characters are not mine, just playing in my sandbox for awhile.

Chapter 20

He woke, earlier than sunset; his age gave him that ability. The rooms in the house, below ground where he resided gave him the protection from burning. His desire gave him whatever else he needed. He walked from his bedroom through his living room, into the expansive bathroom he had required of the builder of the house. Luxuries had never meant a great deal to Eric Northman, unlike so many other vampires who saw their immortality as some type of entitlement to surround themselves with the trappings of a false wealth and status. Status was earned as honestly as wealth as far as Eric was concerned, he did not wear jewels, or gold, or hand spun silk suits. His power came from the people around him, and how they reacted to his simple 'being'. That was true wealth. Of course, that mindset did not preclude having a hot bath every now and then, and a large shower at his disposal. It was one thing to grow up using the ice water of the lakes, or whatever small amount could be heated for a quick wash, another completely to ignore modern comforts, and the availability of a large enough tub, and a tall enough shower with multiple jets to soothe his soul. He chose the shower that night, enjoying the way the powerful water spray felt against his skin, like the sting was bringing the hardened flesh back to life. Everything seemed to be coming to life for him suddenly, and as he bent his head under the rain showerhead he imagined that he could again feel her hands on his skin, and the heat her blood made him crave, the sun that had so long ago been taken from him. Appius had robbed him of a great deal of things: he prided himself on having taken almost all of them back.

Wrapping himself in a black bath sheet, knotted at his waist he walked back out into the living area of his home, at least the one that he occupied; there was a 'formal' living room in the upstairs portion of the house, furnished for the rare guests who met him there, (he did nearly all of his business at Fangtasia). But since the enjoyment of mortal companions was often precluded at the club he sometimes brought them to his house, never to his underground suite, there was a guest room for the activities that required a bed, and washroom as well. His companions were glamoured before they left in their cars or taxis, he felt no desire to have them attached to him in any way; they were momentary distractions and sustenance. He didn't lead them on to believe they were anything more than that. Pam on the other hand, had her favorite girlfriends; she was still too close to her mortal emotions he thought. Or he had thought until Sookie Stackhouse came into his life, and he began to feel the pang of the loss of some of those emotions.

The room he could see was spartan, a desk, a laptop and printer on it, a television, now hidden behind the armoire doors, a few shelves of books, nothing particularly personal, and a disguised bar fridge to hold a few bottles of Royalty Blended, for the times when he didn't feel like company. Perhaps he was deluding himself that he didn't enjoy a few luxuries? He wondered what Sookie might say if, or when he brought her down there. He wondered if the darkness would be comforting to her, or if it would produce a claustrophobia that would cripple her. He wondered if she would reject his night because it was too much like the ones she was trying to escape, and he wondered if he shouldn't just send her into the sun, far from his reach and the reach of any other Vampire, especially Bill Compton, who might seek to enslave her to his or her own purpose. Now knowing about her blood, and the effect it would have on other Vampires, whether they recognized it for its true source or not, made the decisions he made all the more pressing.

He dressed, as he often did for the club, in faded black jeans, boots, a black vest and a casual jacket to go over it all. He ran his fingers through hair that was nearly dry and smiled at himself as he headed up the stairs. He could not say he felt happy, there was some joy, and some apprehension, and some fear mixed under his skin, but the blend of emotions themselves excited him. There was life. He took down the keys to the Ferrari.

Sookie had returned to the hotel just after the supper hour, to decide on something to wear for the club. She had felt the need to go out for a walk, even though the day was kind of drizzly, not that she was feeling cooped up by the walls of the hotel, but because she wanted to walk past a few of the places she had enjoyed when she was Grace. It was kind of like saying goodbye to her she figured, and maybe hello to Sookie again. She wanted so desperately to feel hope about the evening to come, and about Eric, and those places had always helped to clear her mind before, so she caught a bus and went back to Oaklands, borrowing an umbrella from the concierge just in case the drizzle turned into something heavier.

The stone still looked white even moreso against the grey clouds, and the wet made the grass look so green and vibrant. It was going to get hot she figured, the way Louisiana nights did after a rain, when all the moisture rose from the ground almost like ghosts to snake around the living, and to breathe with them again. It was not quite at that stage as she walked the graveled paths, but she allowed herself the anticipation of it, just like she allowed herself the same of Eric.

She had not dreamed of him, even though her sleep had been peaceful, and she was somewhat happy about that. It would be better, she thought, if the next time she saw him it was without preconceptions of what might happen, or the recollections of ugly thoughts. Whatever happened would happen on its own she figured, and hoped. She would do and adapt, as she needed to, as she always had; she pursed her lips together, trying to banish the thought that it might not be enough. She concentrated instead on the regular crunching sounds that her feet made on the gravel as she walked and the way the wind knocked loose tiny droplets of rain from the trees to fall around her, and on the way his lips had felt on hers. It was as good a day as any to start again she resolved, whatever the future might bring, and she treated herself to a salad and a coke at McDonalds before going home.

She had chosen another sundress to wear, Eric seemed to appreciate those, and they seemed the exact opposite of the clothing she had been used to wearing for the evenings, clothing that was now lost to her, and good riddance she thought with a smile as she smoothed out the bodice over her breasts, and untwisted the straps so that they lay over her shoulders evenly. The dress was a light earthen color, like sand, so that the skirt seemed to fall with the shadows from her hips. It reminded her of the midnight beach they had walked along, and when she thought of it she couldn't help but shiver. She pulled her hair up in the clip she'd found, and after checking her makeup and slipping into her heels she went to the drive to wait for him, trying to keep herself from wondering if he would kiss her again.

Thoughts of the potential kiss pushed aside, Sookie could not help but smile as she heard the familiar purr as Eric pulled up in the Ferrari and leapt out faster than her eyes could follow when the car stopped suddenly, as only those ceramic, carbon fiber brakes could. She was unable to stifle the giggle as he swung the door open for her, and waited for her to catch up with his movements, a toothy grin on his own face.

"Why Miss Stackhouse, you look lovely tonight." He bowed, just a fraction as she slipped into the leather seat, the eyes of the valets continuing to follow her with envy, not of her body, but of the car again.

"Thank you Eric." She sort of whispered as she brushed by him, the cool touch of his skin making her goose fleshed with a nearly imperceptible shiver, unless of course you were a Vampire.

She was warm, it just seemed to radiate around her as she moved, like a heat eddy that you can see against desert sands or long stretches of blacktop on a summer day. Her touch, and the shiver that ran through her body was like candy to Eric, or more like the promise of blood, the same anticipatory thrill rocked his chest. She had worn her hair up, her long white neck, seeming to emerge from the décolletage of flawless breasts, and it made him take a careful pause before he returned to the driver's seat. Every fantasy he had allowed himself about her rushed into his brain, and though he was able to shift the car into first and then second as he roared away from the hotel, it was not without some effort at suppressing the growing physical desire that strained his skin.

"Did you sleep well, after we spoke?" He asked, the memories so fresh.

"I did." He watched her chest rise and fall slowly from the corner of his eye as he shifted into third and took the car out on the riverfront. "It was good to hear your voice."

"And yours as well Sookie." He wanted to ask if she had dreamed of him, hell he wanted to simply ask her if she would forego the trip to Fangtasia and simply come back to his house so that he could taste her properly, but he did not.

"I'm excited about seeing your club tonight. Can you tell me a bit about it?" Her question forced him back to the present.

"I don't suppose it is anything special to look at, inside or out. But it provides a 'unique' service."

"How so?"

"Mortals want to meet Vampires, and they want to do it in a safe manner, with just a little touch of danger. I like to think that Fangtasia provides that."

"Yes?"

"You may not know Sookie, but it is illegal for a Vampire to feed on a mortal in a public place. That law is strictly enforced at Fangtasia. My staff also keeps a careful eye on all the patrons to ensure that no one is glamoured into doing anything they don't wish to do." Not that that prohibition necessarily covered the staff, but Ginger was another story altogether Eric thought to himself. "Mortals can meet Vampires, they can dance and they can flirt, but within my walls they are safe. What they choose to do when they leave is their own business as consenting adults." He added, "But at Fangtasia they can play the dangerous fantasy and then go home to their safe little lives."

"So does everyone go there to get bitten or to feed?" Eric could hear the hesitance in her voice, and cursed himself for speaking just a little too bluntly.

"No, of course not. It is a club where people can dance, and have a drink, and wind down after work, just like any other club. Some nights we have gentlemen's entertainment, other nights just dancing."

"Strippers?" That same hesitance was there again.

"All well paid for their work I assure you, and Quinn is there those nights to ensure that they all get home safely, and alone, if that is what they desire."

"I guess he'd be good at that." She said softly.

"It's also a place where Vampires can go and remain unmolested. There are still many clubs that discriminate against my kind. Vampires need down time too."

"I suppose they do." She giggled, and that lightheartedness made Eric feel just a modicum better about the conversation.

"And if you are at all uncomfortable Sookie we will leave, I promise you that."

"I'm gonna try really hard Eric, I want to learn about your world."

"It's not all glamorous." He warned her.

"And mine was?" She answered; her candor pleased him greatly, as did her use of the past tense, and the ease with which she had started speaking finally.

"Point for you then Sookie." He reached over and stroked his thumb across the hands she had folded in her lap.

"Is there anything I should know about meeting other Vampires Eric?"

"Try not to bleed." He offered with a grin on his face. He felt her shudder underneath his hand. "It's a joke, perhaps not a good one?"

"Nope, I don't think it is a joke is it Eric?"

"Well, not really. But you have nothing to worry about Sookie." He would have known if she had been at that point in her cycle, he would have been able to smell it on her, and he would have found a way to postpone their visit, for while he could likely manage to suppress his urges against the temptation of the blood, (and he was only guessing at that ability), he knew that most others would not have been able to.

"Anything else?"

"Vampires generally don't like to be touched," he could see her glance down at his hand, still resting on hers, in his peripheral vision. "This is different." He added very softly, and held her hands tighter. "Don't offer to shake a Vampire's hand, or ever try to give them an embrace of any sort unless they offer first. It will make them uncomfortable."

"Noted."

He watched her lick her lips and them roll them together, they were so red.

"Quinn will be at the club tonight, if there is any trouble and you cannot find me, you must go to him."

"Are you expecting trouble?"

"No, but I have found that planning for ill, and not for good precludes some of the former."

"Also noted."

"Are you nervous Sookie?"

"A little."

"Good. Fangtasia is not a dangerous place, but being wary of any new place is very smart. But I will ensure your safety. I promise you that."

"I trust you Eric."

He remained silent for a few moments after hearing her words, ones he had not exactly expected, at least not so soon, and he wondered if she did understand the significance of them, or if they had simply tumbled from her mouth as a pat response. He chose to believe that she had meant them they way he had heard them, and it made him very content.

"Is there anything else Eric, about your club?"

"Just remember to enjoy yourself, as my guest. Drink whatever you like, and enjoy the music, dance if you like as well."

"You can't really dance with me can you though?" She was so perceptive that it astounded him.

"No, it would be, awkward. I am expected to play the host, and watch over the crowd. No one is supposed to be able to get close to me, except my employees, and of course you. To be on the dance floor wouldn't be appropriate. Rest assured though my dear Sookie, if you dance I will watch you."

Eric parked his car, when he chose to drive to Fangtasia, around the back of the club, in a well lighted area to ensure that no foolish beings, mortal or Vampire would choose to take interest in it beyond a longing glance. He chose the same spot that night with Sookie as his passenger. The rain which had pattered on and off all day had finally abated for good, and the humidity was rising, it would be a good night for clubbing, Eric knew that the weather dictated a lot of things in Shreveport. He was out of the car quickly, as fast as he had been at the hotel, and was pulling Sookie's door open before she'd even put her shoes back on, he'd noticed that she'd taken them off after getting in and wondered if they were uncomfortable somehow for her. They were heels, and he hadn't recalled seeing her in heels before. She stood carefully and he admired the way they made her calves look even more elegant.

"Is there anything else I should know about before we go inside Eric?" She straightened out her dress carefully.

"Perhaps just one other thing." He reached out and took her hand, curling the tiny warm thing into his own fingers. "Vampires have a heightened sense of smell."

"Yes?"

"It would be better if you had some of my scent on you, just so that the other vampires know that you are with me." He purposely did not use the word 'mine' because he knew the connotations would be uncomfortable for her.

"Your scent?"

He brushed his free hand down her bare arm and she unconsciously stepped closer to him. He then slid the hand around her waist and coaxed her hips towards his.

"Let me kiss you again." He whispered while bringing his lips down to hers. He did not wait for her answer as he pressed his mouth against her skin and pulled warm breath from her chest. He felt her melt into his body and then felt her lips part his again, but he was careful to restrain his fangs and meet and guide her tongue away from the points. He dropped the hand he had been holding and brought his up to cradle the back of her neck, keeping her close to him, and feeling the throbbing of her carotid pulse under his fingertips. It was electric. Without seeing he felt her arms drape around his waist and when she closed the slight gap between their hips he knew she could not fail to notice his awakening desires. But he was not ashamed of the truth his body was conveying and only ground his lips against hers harder remembering the way her blood had tasted, and loving the way her mouth did.

**Next Chapter: Pam's POV **

**Reviews are love (:**


	21. Chapter 21

As promised, a little peek into Pam's head. I hope you enjoy .

Merick

Chapter 21

Eric was up on the dais, as he usually was on Fridays and Saturday nights at Fangtasia. Even with a guest he still had duties to perform. He had brought Sookie into the club before they opened their doors to the public, to introduce her to Pam, who was the first Vampire there, she always was, and to some of the human day staff that were preparing the changeover. Pam had watched, but not followed her maker as he toured Sookie through the bar, and his back office. She noted that he hadn't taken her downstairs, but then again, he rarely took anyone downstairs for any good purpose, and though he had denied it to her the previous night, she still felt quite certain that her assessment of 'smitten' was spot on.

She didn't mind this Sookie Stackhouse, for a number of reasons. She was quiet, that was always good in a breather, and she hadn't tried to touch her, or bubble over her in a nervous enthusiasm like so many breathers did upon meeting a new Vampire. She wasn't getting drunk, which was also good, diet cokes had been her only order, not that Pam had expected a chosen companion of her maker to get drunk and unruly. That was perhaps the most important endearing factor to this Sookie, Eric seemed happy when he was around her, in truth, just talking about her brought a smile to his lips that he likely thought he was keeping to himself, though he wasn't. Anyone who made her maker truly happy was worthwhile keeping around as far as Pam was concerned. Though there was something else that Pam couldn't quite put her finger on that made her like this breather, the other reasons were enough to join her at the bar and talk with her as the crowds moved around them.

Quinn was at the door, acting the bouncer role that night, Long Shadow was behind the bar as he always was; he was the last of the trio to come in each night, but suspecting that he was the reason for the monetary discrepancies Pam didn't much mind his absences in the early evening and the respite from having to speak politely to him. Eric, still up on the dais continued to glance down at her and Sookie, with a lopsided smile that looked more hungry than passionate, but Pam knew that was just for show, and it rounded out whenever Sookie looked up at him. He was playing the part of Vampire lord over the masses in the club as was expected. He played the part very well. But he was desperately enamored of the girl, and not being one to mince words, Pam intended to help out her suffering maker if she could.

There had been a little small talk between them, to 'break the ice' as Pam saw it. It was difficult to get the girl to really open up about herself, but Pam quite appreciated the 'less is more' approach, and it didn't hurt that Sookie had complemented her shoes. All girls like to hear nice things about their shoes. She had returned the favor, complimenting Sookie's hair, though that comment had mostly been spawned by the sight of her white neck, the girl was very pale for a breather, but her neck was gorgeous. The girl seemed to be concentrating very hard on something, but it didn't seem to stop her eyes wandering over the patrons, and of course, her shy glances up to Eric. Into her third diet coke Pam decided that she'd take the plunge.

"You haven't slept with Eric yet have you?"

Perhaps she should have speculated that the girl might choke a bit on her drink first, prior to staring at her with wide blue eyes.

"No." She managed to stutter out.

"Why not?" Pam's response was so matter of fact that it could have been a simple question about why she hadn't filed her taxes yet or had her car washed after the rain.

"Well, I, um." The girl was simply charming in her naivety.

"If you are worried about his prowess I can assure you that he is very skilled in the art of love-making."

The girl continued to sputter in her diet coke, finally setting it down on the bar, which didn't make Pam particularly happy.

"You've, you've slept with him?"

"Well, it's been a hundred years or so, but my memory is quite good on the subject. And I don't even usually fall for men."

Slack jawed came to mind as Pam looked at Sookie and Sookie looked back, she began to wonder if she hadn't taken the wrong approach.

"Well just look at him, that tussled blond hair, those eyes, blue and icy as the fjords where he was born, that body? It'd make anyone think about switching teams don't you think?"

"Um, sure, yeah, I guess."

"Unless of course you don't like boys, then I'd be happy to show you how a Vampire makes love." Pam leaned in just a bit to Sookie, grinning mischievously. That seemed to wake the girl up.

"No! I mean, no thank you, I don't do," and then she was off stuttering again, which only made Pam begin to laugh. She could tell Eric was staring at them both but was fairly certain he hadn't overheard the conversation; otherwise the look on his face mightn't have been so inquisitive.

"I'm only joking Sookie, I would never dare to even take a little taste of you, seeing how clearly Eric has made it known that you are his."

"I'm not anyone's!" The girl even stood up to emphasize her statement; she was so deliciously cute to Pam.

"Calm down Sookie. You'll make a spectacle of yourself, and there are enough breathers looking at you already." She sat back down.

"I don't belong to anyone." She said again, with significantly less force in her voice, Pam could distinctly hear a plaintive note and she wasn't sure what that meant.

"It's a Vampire thing Sookie. Eric has made it known that you are his, by leaving his scent on you, so other vampires know to stay away from you. Is that such a terrible thing?"

"I don't know." All the direct control the girl had seemed to be keeping up suddenly melted away and Pam watched as she pushed her fists against her temples for some reason, straining for something. She almost felt bad for her.

"Look at it this way Sookie. If you were dating a human man you might wear his sweater, or a piece of his jewelry, or a promise ring so that other men would know to leave you alone."

"Yes, I guess so."

"Vampires can be far more persistent than breathers, and far more dangerous." She watched the girl shudder and wondered if she didn't already know a bit about the possessive nature of Vampires. "It is better that they know you are his, it will keep you safer."

"But what does it mean to be his Pam?" The girl was actually trembling now, and that worried Pam just a bit.

"Let me liken it to a human analogy for you Sookie, you are dating exclusively, is that fair? It doesn't mean you belong to him, or that he can order you around, though he might try, or even that you are sleeping together. Only that no other Vampire should ask to be in your company, for whatever reason, without his permission."

The girl seemed to be getting paler by the second. Pam sighed unnecessarily.

"Sookie, he's your boyfriend, that's it. Does that make you feel better?"

"Um, a little, I guess."

At least she hadn't burst into tears.

"Darlin' you have so much to learn about Vampires."

"Yeah, I suppose so."

"Come on, let's dance, if you don't start smiling again soon Eric is going to rip my head off." She held out her hand to Sookie and pulled her onto the dance floor.

Up on the dais she saw Eric smile, and nod, nearly imperceptibly to her. He was pleased, whether he had heard the conversation or not, and that was good.

After a few dances, which Pam had to admit she enjoyed; the girl was so warm as Pam moved around her, she almost seemed to radiate the daylight heat Pam had left behind, Pam lead Sookie back to the bar and Long Shadow provided a drink for both, Pam's being Tru Blood, not her favorite beverage, but the only socially acceptable one under the circumstances, and another diet coke. Sookie seemed to have regained most of her lost composure and was scanning over the crowd again quite intently.

"Pam?"

"Yes Sookie?"

"Does Eric have a lot of lovers?" Pam could tell she was trying not to look up at her maker on the dais.

"In a thousand years I imagine he has taken a great many." Pam saw no need to lie or gloss over the truth with any platitudes.

"I s'pose so." Only then did Pam see Sookie look up at the Nordic Vampire. It wasn't hard to tell that the girl was debating so much heavy stuff inside her head.

"Are you a virgin Sookie?" The girl's answering laughter was disconcerting; Pam had thought it was a reasonable question.

"Not hardly." And Sookie dropped her head so her glance rested on the floor. "Eric hasn't told you much about me has he?"

"Nothing actually."

"You don't know how he found me, or what I was doing?"

"No. Is there something I should know?"

"Probably not, I guess."

"Look Sookie, whatever it is you are berating yourself for, drop it. Eric has chosen you, whatever bit of your past that has you tied up in knots, well, it doesn't seem to matter to him, so it shouldn't matter to you."

"Oh Pam." The voice wavered.

"In the nicest way possible Sookie, give it a rest, and just sleep with the man, he wants you, you want him, you'll have a good time. And if you're worried that these Fangbangers," she gestured to the women still dancing around them, throwing not so subtle stares at Eric, "are going to turn his head from you, don't be. I've never seen him as taken with someone as with you. But if you tell him I said that I'll deny it, and I'll glamour you."

That finally made the girl laugh. But Pam was serious, whatever it was Sookie had done, it didn't seem to matter a whit to Eric, and that was all that mattered to her. What happened next though, dispelled all the sense of fun that Pam had begun to feel.

A man, no one Pam recognized bumped into Sookie on his way to the washroom, and the girl went absolutely pale.

"Are you alright Sookie?" She asked.

"I need to talk to Eric." She whispered.

"Are you sick?"

"No, please, Pam, I need to talk to Eric." The seriousness of Sookie's voice made Pam uncomfortable, and she looked immediately at the dais, she could feel her maker's voice in her head and shot back her own.

'Something's wrong'

'Office'

Eric was then a blur rushing to the back, and Pam almost picked Sookie up in her own haste to get the girl back to her maker's office.

"Eric?" Sookie looked to Pam as if she was frozen.

"Sookie, what has happened?"

"The man, that man who just walked past us."

"You know him?" Eric's eyebrows were knit over the pale blue eyes she had earlier been reminiscing about. Sookie appeared to ignore the question.

"You said that Vampires aren't allowed to drink from humans in public places right Eric?"

"Yes?" Eric drew out the one word answer while staring at the girl.

"The man who brushed past me, he's going to the washroom to meet someone, someone who is going to feed on him. But Eric, he isn't just a patron, he's a cop."

Pam hardly had a chance to see the expression of concern on Eric's face transform into anger as he flew from the room, the gust of air whipping at the sundress Sookie was wearing, and all she heard was,

"Sookie, stay here with Pam."

She turned back to Sookie, now staring at her with her own amazed expression.

"How the hell did you know that?"

She didn't have time to get an answer as Eric dragged the man Sookie had been speaking about into his office and slammed the door shut behind them all. With a less than gentle shove he forced the man into the corner of the loveseat and perched himself on the edge of his desk closest to him, Pam took up station right beside the leather armrest that the man was avoiding quite consciously. She noticed that Sookie had retreated into a corner of the room, almost behind Eric, her eyes cast down to the floor with great discomfort painted on her face.

"Officer?" Eric was in full nonchalant interrogation mode, much the same tone of voice she expected to hear addressed to the accountant the following night. The announcement of his true identity seemed to take some of the cockiness out of the black haired man who was dressed as most any club-goer might be. Pam could still not sort out how Sookie had known he was on the job. The man stayed silent even in the face of the Vampire who was staring at him.

"All members of law enforcement are welcome at Fangtasia officer." Eric continued, "But everyone who patronizes my establishment has to follow the law."

Eric stood to his full, not inconsiderable height and looked down at the man on the loveseat, who was trying his very best not to shrink away.

"Drinking blood," he paused, "from the source, is not allowed in this establishment. Neither is entrapment officer, we run an honest business here."

At that the man laughed with the last ounce of bravado he had as far as Pam was concerned.

"Nothing about this business is honest Mr. Northman." Pam noticed the emphasis on Eric's adopted surname. She could feel his discomfort at the statement, but his face betrayed none of it.

"I would suggest that you leave now officer. And do bear in mind that Vampires have very good memories. So coming back around Fangtasia would not likely be a good idea. We have the right to refuse service to anyone whom we deem to be," another pause, Pam loved those pauses, "a threat to the law-abiding citizens who choose to patronize our business."

"Law abiding?" The man scoffed as he stood. "It's only a matter of time Mr. Northman till we compile the proof that you are conducting illegal activities here. And do rest assured that we are not without resources in that matter."

"He's lying." Came the quiet voice from the corner, Pam hadn't quite forgotten about Sookie, but she had put aside her concerns about the girl while the officer's boasts sunk in.

"How so Sookie?" Pam watched as Eric cocked his head, his gaze not leaving the face of the man who was trying to stare him down even as he beckoned Sookie to his side.

"He doesn't have any proof, nothing but conjecture." Were her astonishing words, Pam felt desperate to be included in whatever loop Eric seemed to have left her out of, and she stared at her maker, even though he did not acknowledge her.

"As I've maintained, Fangtasia is an honest business." His control was amazing.

"He doesn't know what he's looking for, except an excuse to raid you and start an investigation." Pam watched Sookie take the few careful steps over to Eric, her eyes still mostly on the floor, except for a few darting glances at the Viking.

"I think you should leave officer. Pam? Show the gentleman here out, and make certain he gets to his vehicle safely."

"What do you mean by that?" The officer's voice became distinctly unnerved as Pam smiled at him, red lips parted, fangs showing.

"Exactly what I said. Pam will make sure that you get to your car safely." Then Eric turned away and it was Pam's turn to grasp the man gently, but determinedly around his upper arm and guide him from the office.

"I will find something Northman."

"Yeah, yeah." Pam muttered as she walked him out of the back door and to the parking lot. She watched him eye her as he unlocked and then slid into his car, she waved at him with her fingers, still smiling with her fangs out as he slammed it into drive and left.

Now, she thought to herself, what the hell was all that about? And she stalked back into the club.

**Next chapter, Bill puts his game in motion and Eric 'thanks' Sookie**

**Hee hee**


	22. Chapter 22

Thank you all for your kind reviews, your alerts and your favorites. I have tried to return all your words in kind, but forgive me if not all the messages have arrived, sometimes I run into blocks sending them. Please know that I sincerely appreciate every moment you take to write to me.

I hope you will enjoy the following, a little Bill, and little more Eric and our little Sookie.

Merick

Chapter 22

Sophie Anne had insisted he stay and break his fast with her, she seemed to have a veritable stable of humans around who were ready to present their throats, or other assorted body parts for the pleasure of their Queen and her guests. Bill wasn't certain of their motivation; blind lust, obedience, or a desire to be themselves turned one day, nothing Sophie Anne was likely to do to anyone who willingly sold themselves, she like strong minded vampires around her, if she could control them, and she did a good job with the ones she had. She would never turn a blood whore, at least not the ones Bill had been offered. Perhaps she had special favorites hidden away for her own pleasures, Bill did not care to inquire. So it was almost two hours past sunset before he was able to retrieve his motorcycle from the palace garage; where someone had detailed it for him, and not done a terrible job, and head back towards Shreveport, with a minor detour to Bon Temps along the way.

He stewed for the first half of the journey, wondering just what Eric Northman had been able to get up to with Sookie for the night he had been gone. After about a hundred miles that bile grew old and he began to focus a little more precisely on exactly how he was going to accomplish his goals in Bon Temp without arousing any suspicion. By the time he had crossed the town line and hidden away his bike in the brush again he had a decent plan in mind to draw Bartlett Hale out of his house, and into his grasp.

The rain had obviously made it to Bon Temps, though not New Orleans and the ground was damp, though blissfully quiet as Bill made his way through the woods. Reaching the edge of the clearing where the old house stood Bill looked around to ascertain if the younger one, Jason, Sookie's brother was home. His truck wasn't there, and it was getting on close to midnight, although being Friday Bill suspected that he would be out spending his paycheck and picking his companion for the night at some bar or other, assuming there were bars in Bon Temps.

He stalked around the porch, there were lights on in the upstairs, and looked for a target for his bait, he found it, two large metal garbage cans, likely Jason's chore to haul to the end of the drive once a week. Picking up a stick he began to bang against them, like an animal would, trying to knock them over to root around in the contents. There was rustling in the upstairs of the house, and then a call,

"Jason?" Bartlett Hale was home, Bill had expected that, he had to be in his eighties; he certainly wasn't going out to the bars in the evenings. He was calling to his nephew to see if he would deal with the nuisance. But of course he wouldn't.

Receiving no answer to his entreaty, Bill then heard the sound of feet on the wooden stairs, and then shuffling across what must have been a throw rug on the sitting room floor. He continued to shake the cans, even tipping one over for effect.

"Damned animals!" Came the curse from inside the house and then a squeak from the screen door as it was opened and Bartlett stepped out onto the porch, carrying his shotgun. Bill had it torn from his hands before the man knew what hit him, the force of the attack knocking him to the peeling paint of the slats. Bill threw the gun out onto the lawn, far from the man's grasping fingers, not that it could have hurt him, but it would have ruined a very expensive motorcycle jacket. With his hand he hauled the man to standing, almost, and down the three steps of the porch, around to the back of the house where the pond he had seen on his earlier visit was.

"Who are you?" Came the strangled cry, it was so incredibly pitiful, but then it always was coming from bullies that suddenly found themselves bested.

"Still touching little girls you freak?" Was the only answer Bill was prepared to give the man at that point. He hauled him onto the little dock that jutted out into the black water.

"What are you talking about?"

"You like to touch little girls. You get off on terrorizing them. Is that the only way you can get it up?" Bill heard the tone in his voice growing harsher. 'Interesting,' he thought to himself. As he pondered the man's crimes he found himself feeling just a bit more righteous in his actions. Moral justification had never really been a deal breaker before.

"You've got it all wrong." The man tried to plead as Bill pushed him closer to the edge of the decking.

"Really? Why don't you try to explain it to me, how having a little girl touch you gets you off?" And Bill brought his face right down to the wrinkled one of Sookie's tormentor, and dropped his fangs with a snickt that echoed across the black water.

Bartlett actually yelped as he saw the gleam, and began to squirm a little harder, sputtering high-pitched little squeals.

"I am going to balance the scales for all your sins Bartlett Hale, by wringing the life from your body." Bill actually had no intention of strangling the man, it would leave too much evidence, but the threat was quite effective, coupled with the hungry grin. He could hear the aged heart in the man's chest begin to patter irregularly.

"I am going to drink every drop of your blood old man, and it is going to cause you more pain than your feeble mind can begin to imagine." The man's breathing began to grow short and he gasped while trying to pull the iron hands away from his shirt, not that Bill was ever going to be moved.

"Any last words?" Bill grinned at him, loving the feeling of power that came along with the terror. Hands that had been wrapped around Bill's wrists went to the man's chest, clutching at the Wal-Mart snap-up shirt he wore, Bill didn't much notice the color of the plaid, just the way it wrinkled under the desperate fingers, and the way the body convulsed in his grasp with staccato bursts. The sound of the rails gurgling from the man's throat was even better than the terrified mewls. Bill held him just off the ground watching the death throes until the body became still, and the heart stopped completely and then he let him slide down, just balanced to the water side of the dock, and watched the flesh slip into the pond. He had no intention of feeding on a pedophile, not when so many other bloody delights were about to be his.

Before leaving he retrieved the shot gun and tossed it into the water along with the body, so it would look as if the man went out to investigate a noise and suffered a fatal heart attack while doing so. The tipped over rubbish containers only added credence to the tale. Bill smiled; he was quite pleased with himself because he knew that Sookie was going to have to accept him now, after a favor this huge. He had slain her dragon and was quite prepared to petition for his reward.

Eric turned to beckon Sookie into his arms as Pam closed the door behind herself and the officer she was escorting out. She came willingly, trembling like the wet leaves on the trees outside even after he folded her into his chest. He kissed the top of her forehead.

"Thank you Sookie. You have no idea what kind of headache you have just spared Pam and myself."

"What was all that about Eric?"

"Sometimes people get it in their heads that illegal things are going on in Vampire owned and frequented establishments, whether they are or not, and they decide to cause trouble to try to get them closed." He found himself running his fingers over her hair, it was still pinned up, and down her neck: he could almost hear her pulse as he listened, though he could certainly feel it on his fingertips.

"But Fangtasia isn't doing anything illegal, right?"

"No Sookie, certainly nothing like that man was trying to provoke. It would simply have been a terrible hassle to have a fruitless investigation. My lawyer certainly would have taken care of things, but not before other officers and detectives ran their roughshod way through my affairs."

"But there would be nothing to find, right?"

"Sadly Sookie, things are somewhat complicated right now."

"Eric?" She pulled herself away from his chest and looked up at him, her eyes questioning his.

"Someone has been stealing money from the club Sookie. I would prefer to deal with the matter internally rather than to have it put on display for the Shreveport Police and all 'concerned citizens'. Pam and I will be speaking to our accountant tomorrow about the matter."

"Can you do this glamour thing on him to make him tell you the truth?"

"I could, but the thing about glamouring someone is that you have to know the right questions to ask, otherwise you don't get the answers you need. It will be a delicate procedure to get the truth, if he even knows it. Though your skills this evening may have offered us a better chance, if you would agree to help us?" He had always held in the back of his mind that he would ask for her help in some way, but her demonstration had cemented his faith in her abilities and given him an opportunity that did not seem nearly as contrived as the others he had contemplated.

"You want me to read his mind?"

"I would assure your safety Sookie, I only need the truth of where this money is going, and to what end if he knows it."

"I would love to help you Eric, it is the least I can do for everything that you've done for me." Her face brightened in a most beautiful way Eric thought.

"This isn't a duty Sookie, I don't want you to feel obligated. I do not expect you to repay me, that is not why I have helped you."

"I'm not Eric, I mean, I am trying to repay you, but I don't feel the way you say, I want to help, you and Pam." She seemed so eager, and it was so delightful.

"Then thank you again Sookie." He had never planned on turning her down, but he felt better than he had thought he would, seeing her genuine enthusiasm.

He bent down and kissed her head again, lingering to feel the warmth and to inhale the scent of her hair. Any other activity he might have wanted to pursue just then was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. He knew who it was immediately.

"Come in Pam." The door opened, Pam stepped in, looked at them both over her nose with her eyebrows raised.

"Somebody want to tell me what's going on here?"

"Sookie has just saved us from a great deal of trouble Pam." Eric kept his tone moderated as he looked at his obviously frustrated child. He knew Pam liked to be in the loop about all things, especially as they pertained to Fangtasia and himself. But he had never felt it to be his place to reveal all of Sookie's secrets, even if she had put them out for public view on her blog. That right was hers.

"I know that, but how did she know?" It annoyed Eric just a little that Pam was talking about Sookie in the third person even though she could clearly see that she was still present. But of course, that was Pam; she spoke directly and did not pander to anyone, willingly. And honestly, he rarely afforded breathers the courtesy himself unless they were doing some kind of business together and niceties were required.

"You didn't tell her anything about me?" Sookie looked up into Eric's eyes, he couldn't tell if she was upset or confused or even angry, her own voice was as regular as his could be.

"It isn't my place Sookie." He replied.

"Hello? My place? Eric? What the hell is going on?" Pam's voice, however, was easily interpreted. Sookie gave her the answer she sought.

"I'm a telepath Pam. I've been trying to block everyone's thoughts since I came in, but when that man touched me I couldn't help but hear him, he was so loud with his anger."

Pam looked at Sookie first in disbelief, and then began to laugh. Eric could feel Sookie tremble against his arm, which was still around her waist, even though Pam's laughter was not nearly as menacing as Eric had heard it be in the past.

"Do you have a horseshoe up your,"

"Pam!"

She continued to laugh.

"You are the luckiest bastard I know."

"I am hardly a bastard Pam."

She shook her head, which frustrated Eric as it normally did but he held his temper in check, because he did not want Sookie to see him truly display his displeasure.

"So what am I thinking Sookie?" Pam turned her attention back to the blond.

"I can't read Vampires."

"Well that's unfortunate. But still, an amazing skill."

"And Sookie has said she will come tomorrow and help us speak with our accountant."

"You best keep this one around for a long time Eric."

"Pam!" Eric's frustration with his child's tactless statements was reaching its tolerance point despite his desire to remain calm in front of Sookie. He used the voice that Pam would understand, and forced the point through their bond.

"Sorry," she backed down finally, much to Eric's relief, "but you have to admit that it's been a bit of a shock to my system tonight, all this news, and the lovely Miss Stackhouse here."

"You will tell no-one about this Pam. If we are to have any advantage over our man and whatever compatriots he might have."

"Of course Eric." She grinned. "You are a very lucky girl Sookie."

"I don't feel so lucky."

"You just don't know what you have yet." Pam cast her glance up at Eric, meeting his eyes; he saw the excitement in hers, and the mischief that was so often present. "I'll head back out to the club. I enjoyed meeting you Sookie. And thank you for offering to help my maker and I. I hope you remember everything we spoke about earlier."

Eric felt Sookie nod, and pull away from him just a little, as if she was suddenly uncomfortable of their proximity to each other. He waited until Pam was out in the hallway and his office door separated them.

"What did Pam say to you?"

"A great many things Eric."

"I will punish that girl severely." Eric made to go to the door, feeling the ire in his chest. He was trying so hard to build something with Sookie, and he did not need Pam destroying his careful construction.

"No Eric, please, she said things I needed to hear." He stopped. "Could you just take me home now?"

"Is everything alright with you Sookie?"

Grace, it was the only way Eric knew to describe the smile that grew on Sookie's face, not withstanding the fact she had used it as her name on the streets. That thought didn't come to him until later, as well as the appropriateness of it. Just then she looked saintly, like the Byzantine icons he had seen on church walls, the wide eyes, cast heaven-ward, though in this case heaven-ward was simply into his face, with the peaceful smile that spoke of the comfort of belief. Eric felt almost shaken by the vision.

"Everything is fine Eric, I promise."

"Let me take you home." Was the dumbstruck response that came to his lips almost without his control.

Eric used the drive back to the hotel to tell Sookie a little background on his suspicions without actually mentioning Long Shadow's name. He told her about his nightly counts, and the fact that more empties seemed to be leaving the club than revenues coming in. Being that he could estimate the number of drinks per bottle for spirits, and easily count the coolers and beers with his preternatural speed it became quickly obvious that money was hemorrhaging from somewhere. He also did not mention his suspicions about what the money could be going towards, because in truth he had no concrete ideas, only the speculation towards the usual suspects, drugs, bribes, and power lust. The diversion in conversation helped him to avoid considering exactly what was going on in Sookie's head, and what it was that Pam had actually said to her. Knowing his child he had a healthy concern, but Sookie's attitude had him confused, she seemed so 'peaceful' and while that was supposed to be good it did worry Eric a little. He gave the keys to the valet without actually waiting for a clue from Sookie; he intended to follow her because he couldn't leave what had happened alone. Pam had used up all his patience, and the proximity to Sookie, and her scent on his clothes all evening had nearly driven him mad.

He followed her as she bypassed the lounge and went straight to the elevators, digging her key card out of her purse as she waited for the doors to open. Her silence bothered him more than he wanted to admit. When she got to her door and opened it, only then did she break the hush that was killing him.

"Would you like to come in Eric?"

"I told you Sookie, you shouldn't invite a Vampire into your home unless you are certain you want him there."

The beautiful smile returned. Her heart beat began to flutter and he could just taste the salt of her nervousness in the air.

"Would you like to come in Eric?"

"Are you certain Sookie?" His skin felt electric hearing her affirmed permission but he held back just a moment longer.

"I am. I know you are very busy Eric, and I'm sure you can't spend more than a few minutes with me," she stepped backwards through the frame.

"A few minutes? Sookie, it will take me hours to make love to you properly." And he followed her into the suite, letting the door close behind them.

She was scared, it was taking everything she had to paste on the face of confidence, though Sookie found that every time she looked at Eric, really looked at him, that she could not keep the smile from her lips. The walk, the silence, the heft of her shoulders were all practiced, but the smile was not, he did that to her. She could not push Pam's words from her head 'Eric has chosen you, whatever bit of your past that has you tied up in knots, well, it doesn't seem to matter to him, so it shouldn't matter to you'. It didn't solve the problem that she had no idea how to make love to him, but looking at him, remembering his touch and feeling the ache in her gut, especially when he said the words to her, she felt the courage to try.

The courage didn't stop her trembling when he brushed his fingers down her bare arm, or maybe that was the way it was supposed to be. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the shudder that ran down her back. His fingers took up her hand and brought it to his lips, she felt their cool press on her skin and could not suppress the little moan that escaped her throat. She could feel the low laugh in his chest cut through the air between them, as closely as if he had touched her skin there, and she heard him whisper her name and let her shoulders fall as if his voice had bewitched her.

"You wore your hair up tonight." He purred to her, and she felt the brush of his lips against his head.

"I hoped you would like it?"

"I do. You are so beautiful. I imagine quite a few Vampires noticed it tonight."

"But they wouldn't touch me, right Eric, because I am yours?" She felt him stiffen for an instant, but recover himself as he shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it over the couch. She wanted his confidence to inspire her, and guide her.

"Pam told you that did she?" Sookie could hear the grit in his voice.

"She did."

"Did she explain it to you Sookie?" He took her hands again, the contact made her feel more secure.

"She tried."

"What did she say?"

"She said it was kind of like you were my boyfriend, and that no other Vampire should be trying to ask me out, or to do anything else," her voice faded and her head drooped. He released one of her hands and brought his fingers under her chin to coax her face upwards so that she looked into his eyes again. She finished her thought in a whisper. "I think it means something more but she probably already thought she was going to be in trouble so she didn't say anything else."

"I suppose it is as good an explanation as any Sookie, though you are right that if I claim you as mine that it means something much deeper in our culture than just a steady boyfriend."

"Is it bad?"

"It is nothing either good or bad but the thinking makes it so."

"So you mean it's what I make it?"

"Not as eloquent as Shakespeare but certainly more succinct Sookie. But we need not dwell on it now. In a manner of speaking, you are mine, but only as long as you wish it, shall we say that. I would never hold you against your will. There is no pleasure in that, for either of us."

The way that he said it helped to feed the confidence she was nurturing, it was never a hundred percent solid, but what she had was enough at least to ask her next question.

"Can we go to the bedroom?"

"I would like nothing more little one." And he swung her up in his arms as if she weighed nothing, eliciting a little giggle from her at the motion.

Eric did intend to make love to her, but he knew it was going to have to be different than any other lover he had taken, and he looked forward to the challenge and the delights as he lifted her into his arms and followed the path to her bedroom.

**Next chapter, the bedroom**


	23. Chapter 23

So sorry about the wait for this, I wanted to get it right. Hopefully it is what you expected, and not what you expected. I'd love to hear what you think,

Merick

Chapter 23

The lights in the bedroom were low, cast in from the main room of the suite and from the ambient glow of the city at night. But Eric could see perfectly, every beautiful curve of her body, from her hips to her shoulders, to the bends of her arms and knees. He lay her body down on the bed carefully, and then sat beside her, not over her, not threatening her, but carefully beside her hips, reaching out with his hands to stroke the side of her face and down her arms as she quivered under what he presumed was the cool touch of his fingers. She sat herself up beside him, trying to look into his eyes, but every so often flickering her lids closed as his skin stroked hers softly. As beautiful as her neck was, and as much as he wanted to simply breach the skin there with the points of his fangs and drink, he resisted, and instead reached up to the clip she had fastened there and pulled it loose, letting the tendrils of blond fall down to her shoulders in soft curls, the movement filling the air with the scent of her warm perfumes and the sunshine made olfactory. He breathed in deeply, closing his own eyes to let the visions of the rays capture him in long forgotten memories of summer.

Fingers curled around the back of her neck brought her face to meet his and he kissed her. He had it in mind that he would do a lot of that, because he felt certain that the intimacy of a true kiss was another thing her life had never given her, besides the obvious intimacy of true love making. Eric prided himself on being able to provide a true kiss to his lovers, with the skill of a thousand years practice and incredible teachers. It was more like coaxing your partner to you than imposing yourself on them, at least in the beginning as the passions began to build. He would brush her lips with his and hold his ground, inviting her to respond. When she did, because she did exert just the tiniest bit back against him, he parted his own lips, just enough to guide hers apart as well, and then he pulled in a gentle breath, loving the way its warmth played across his tongue. Then he sent it out, just to stroke her lip, inviting her to join him in the dance. After a pause he could feel her own draw against his chest and though he did not need to breathe he gave up the air to her again, hoping she could taste her own sweetness in it. Again she quivered and then did reach out to taste him, her tongue meeting his between their lips, and it was his turn to shudder, just a hair, with the innocence, and the tender force with which she joined him. He slowly moved his mouth against hers, grinding himself just a fraction closer, his nostrils filling with the scent of her skin, his fingertips feeling the pulse at her neck, his chest feeling the press of hers. Only then did he bring his lips closed to pull away from her, knowing that she needed a mortal breath. She took it, as he took her hands and pressed them to his chest.

"Smile for me?" She asked so quietly, he wondered if he'd mentioned about his excellent hearing, yes, he had, on the beach when the ranger had nearly come upon them he recalled. For her he broke out into a broad smile, showing off the fangs to her stifled gasp. But even as he felt the moment of terror Eric could see the way she was looking at him, studying his face and the expression he wore on it very intently. He wondered what she was trying to decide, if he was a monster or not? If he was just like the other men? He leaned in and kissed her again intent on proving that he wasn't either.

He felt her relax into the kiss, and only then chanced to release her hands and let his own wander down her sides. He felt hers brush against his back as she pulled herself into his shoulder and held there, breathing against his chest, composing herself perhaps, or calming the heartbeat that he could hear thundering with their contact. He kept his touches long and even as he drew over her shoulders, stopping there and waiting for her to catch up to his state, but playing with the spaghetti straps just enough that his desire to push them off was obvious.

"Will you take your shirt off?"

Reluctantly, to a degree, Eric withdrew his hands from her skin and yanked his vest free of his jeans, pulling it over his head and casting it to the unoccupied side of the bed. He watched her exhale slowly, he hoped at the pleasant sight of him. Cautious fingers reached out to touch the muscles of his chest, a look of wonder in her eyes, or perhaps he was deluding himself?

"Your skin is cold every where." She said, tracing her warm fingertips across the defined musculature.

"It is my nature Sookie. But I am not always cold."

"I don't mind." She placed her palms flat onto his chest and smiled. "You're different, I like that."

"So are you." And he dared to reach over and push the thin straps off her shoulders finally, not that the bodice fell; her breasts and the tailoring kept her modesty quite intact. With a graceful gesture she slipped her arms out of the loops, holding the fabric in place, not that it didn't allow Eric the vision's hint of the swells of her breasts, yet another place he imagined putting his mouth over, and there were so many. Then she lay back down in the half-light, the shadows hiding her just a little from his eyes. He could see her fingers though, moving to her left side, to pull down the zipper that kept that bodice taut over her breasts, but she maintained her left arm modestly over herself even as Eric watched the fabric loosen around her, its movement becoming more exaggerated with her breath. He bent down, from still sitting beside her to kiss her again, this time with a little more force, parting her lips and tasting her from the outset, but she matched him, and the arm that had been protecting her wrapped around his neck to pull him even closer.

The fabric between their chests was thin, thinner than Eric had realized, and he sorted out rather quickly that she didn't have a bra on either, no wires or lace, just the feeling of her flesh beneath the cotton, and beneath him. He knew his own arousal was beginning to stir. He carefully began to trace his way down her neck, beginning at her ear lobe with the tip of his tongue, following the natural channels downwards to the top of her breastbone and then a little further. He blew the cold air from his lungs against her skin there, feeling it prickle up under his lips and feeling her shudder again.

It was her hands though that went to the fabric and finally pulled it down, Eric kept his still, one on either side of her shoulders, even as he remained sitting beside her. He watched as the beautiful pale flesh was revealed to him as timidly as a virginal bride might do, the white, with the hint of the pulse points beneath, the lovely rounded breasts, each crowned with a rose of perfect pink, begging him almost audibly to take them into his mouth and give her the pleasure she deserved. He took a breath he didn't need and brushed his fingertips just down the lateral swells, just to see how she would react. The moan that escaped her lips was the most beautiful sound Eric could recall. He painted his fingers closer to their centers saying nothing, chancing nothing, letting his fingers speak for him, and his mouth as he bent to first kiss her mouth again and then trail down to hover over the roses, flicking his tongue across the attentive flesh, letting their excitement come to him.

Hands wrapped around her torso Eric lifted her chest to his mouth, tasting the salt on her skin, hearing the moans she tried to quiet, lost in emotions she likely didn't understand, feeling the pounding of her heart so very close to his lips. Finally he dared to sling a leg over her hips to straddle her so that he could attend to her properly. He turned his attentions to her other breast, still holding her hovering just above the duvet, feeling the tension in her skin from his mouth and strong fingers. She weighed nothing to him, like a bird, captured yet safe in his grasp.

He continued with his mouth until he could feel her raising her hips to meet his, and only then did he give off, letting his hips sink to meet hers, not pressing his full weight into her, he had no desire to hurt her, but enough that she could feel his desire for her without question. When her soft flesh pressed against him, and she did not pull away he knew that she was willing, and not afraid. He sat back and carefully pulled the dress upwards, to cover her breasts momentarily as he urged her to shrug it from her body. He pulled it away, laying it over his vest, and then looked over her body, not with a hungry leer, but with the wonder of the innocence she projected, naked before him, but for the white lace panties and the blond tresses he combed down to lay atop her breasts. Only one thing stood out on her body; certainly her ribs were visible, below the ample breasts, but Eric knew, from reading her story that she had never eaten well, and he knew that as long as she would let him care for her that he would change that and soon enough she would look healthy again. No it wasn't the ribs, or even the skin, almost as pale as his from not being out in the sun and spending her life in the dark, it was a jagged white line across the top of her left thigh. He knew it as a scar, he had seen many, inflicted many, and even watched his own heal over. This one was not clean, not from a blade. It was torn looking, her precious skin marred by the white healing. He did not allow his eyes to linger on it, he did not want her to feel self-conscious about what he did not see as flaw, only as a badge of her struggle. But he did find he needed to quash a swell of anger against the nameless man who had hurt her that way. In that instant he realized how ridiculous that anger would seem to her, she who had been hurt by so many men, some by action and some by omission. He returned his attention to her body, kissing her abdomen, reveling in how her quiet laughter made her skin vibrate against his lips. Beyond the salt, another scent began to fill Eric's nostrils, her arousal was so sweet and made him feel so hungry to have her in every way he could. He moved to lay beside her, knowing that he would not be able to control himself for much longer, and wanting to buy every moment he could.

As their faces met Sookie leaned forward to begin another kiss with Eric. Even as she did so Eric felt her hands go his waist, resting on the band of his jeans. She hesitated, even as she looked into his eyes, pleading he thought with him, to take a lead she was so unsure of. He put his hands atop of hers, and pushed down the black denim, wriggling his way free of the suddenly restrictive jeans fluidly. He noticed that she did not look down at him as he did so, but kept her eyes firmly locked with his, he knew that she could not fail to feel the press of his arousal against her skin, but she seemed frozen, as if frightened, and he again kissed her, using the interlude to rock himself against her to share her warmth. She did not pull away even though her heart was racing.

Eric waited until it slowed, just enough to tell him that the momentary fear had passed, smothered in his kiss he hoped, and then he brought his hands to the scrap of lace that still covered her, tugging it down. She kicked it off her legs, with a little of his help, and then folded herself against him, her scent and her heat making his body ache. He could not help but let his hands curl over the firm of her bottom, pulling her even closer, needing her, and then to let his fingers brush against her depths. Her indrawn breath was not the exact response he had been expecting, and neither was the delicate spider web of barely raised scars he could feel at his fingertips. He pulled back, perhaps faster than he should have, the confusion and wonder obvious on his face.

"Sookie?" He whispered, lips parted, as he looked into her eyes. "What?" Though he understood well enough what he had felt.

"It's okay Eric, it doesn't hurt, it's alright, I can still make it wonderful for you." He could hear the panic starting in her voice.

"Sookie, it isn't about that," he tried to begin but she cut him off.

"But I can make you come, please, Eric, I know I'm broken, but please, please don't leave me." He could see the glistening tears beginning to well up in her eyes, in the half light they sparkled, like the supernatural being he knew her to be.

"Sookie." He repeated.

What he had felt, under his fingertips, exquisitely sensitive as they were, were the evidence of the rent skin, torn by the vigor of men, who should never have touched her. Scars, not unlike the one on her thigh that had so bothered him, a physical reminder of every injustice done to her, and it took a great deal of self control not to roar with the anger he felt in his chest upon understanding them, and hearing her desperate pleas. She tried to turn away from him, the tears now spilling over her lids, the misery in her face more than palpable. He held her fast and pressed his mouth to hers, seeking out her tongue in his own desperation. Her body went limp in his grasp, but he insisted on the kiss, so she would understand.

"I will not leave you Sookie."

"But I'm broken, a waste."

"You are not broken, or a waste," he paused, not quite certain of the words he intended to follow with, but he took the plunge anyways, believing it was what she needed to hear. "You are mine."

"Eric?" She sniffled.

"I can help you Sookie." He stroked the tears off her cheeks and brushed the hair back from her face.

"No one can help me Eric. Maybe you should just go."

"My blood," he began, trying to explain, "it may be able to help you heal."

"I don't understand Eric."

He wasn't certain if he was convinced of it himself, he'd never tried to heal wounds that were anything but fresh, and while some of those he felt probably were, others were not. But he suspected that the numbness and the difficulty Sookie was having might have more to do with her mind than the scars. He wanted to ensure that his words would be exceptionally convincing to her. He knew that the mind could work miracles, beyond what the blood could.

"Vampire blood can heal. It is not information we generally share, I'm sure you can understand why. It's hard enough to deal with drainers who want our blood to get high, can you imagine how much more precious it might seem if people thought it was a panacea?" He watched her nod, her chest still heaving with tiny sobs.

"Do I have to drink it?"

"Sometimes that is an effective way, but in this case, perhaps if I could touch you with it?"

She nodded, biting her lip, demonstrating to him her deep-seated worry.

He parted his lips, not caring that she watched as he impaled his thumb onto his fang, he did it deep, and it stung, but he knew it had to be that way or the blood would not flow long enough, after a thousand years he healed too quickly. In the beginning his own torn flesh had taken a day of sleep to heal, though the wounds in his mind had taken much longer than that. But he had survived, as he knew she would survive, and steeling himself with that resolve he leaned forward to kiss her lightly as he drew the bloodied thumb between her legs and began to paint.

At first she was still, eyes closed, and then she trembled, and then Eric finally heard her heart beat begin to rise again and he began to touch her with more purpose. Her lips parted and she moaned and arched herself towards him. Fingers joined the thumb, and pressure where before there had been only concern, Eric knew that had he needed to breathe that his own breaths would be coming in similar gasps to hers, he could feel the ache of wanting her, but he continued on, bringing her to the very peak of her pleasure, without quite pushing her over, not that he hadn't intended to, but through her gentle moans, and the way her body yielded to him she had managed to speak, to beg him.

"Please Eric, I need to feel you inside of me. Please give me that."

His answer had been to pull his hand away and to wrap it around her neck, bringing her face to his to take her lips roughly as he drove himself into her depths, the growl rising in his chest, only to be shared with her. She cried out with his force, not with fear or with pain, but with final abandon, and he felt her heat take him, and then coat him in the wash of her orgasm. It was all he could do to restrain himself the few extra moments as her body convulsed over his, and he thrust against her before he gave in to her, joining the wave.

**Next Chapter, What could possibly go wrong now? Oh wait, where's Bill?**


	24. Chapter 24

Wow, this length got away from me. I hope you enjoy the return of Bill.

Merick

Chapter 24

He had wrapped her body in the white duvet; she presumed he wanted to keep her warm afterwards, knowing that his own touch would only steal the heat from her skin. He had been so gentle and so careful that Sookie could hardly hold back the new tears that threatened to fall down her cheeks. No man had ever given her what he had, and no man had ever stayed, wanting to simply keep holding onto her when it was done. He was just looking at her, and stroking her hair, and smiling and it made her feel as if she was worth something, for the first time she could remember.

"Don't cry Sookie." He whispered to her, which only urged the tears forward. Cool fingertips blotted them away as she tried to smile and even laugh at her own foolishness, but the sound that escaped her lips was more of a sad whimper. "Have I hurt you?" He asked.

"No, Eric, no, I'm not hurt, I just, I just don't know what to do?" Never having found herself in the throes of an afterglow, she was lost.

"What is there to do my little one? Rest for a few more moments here with me before I have to go. The eighth floor is not so safe for a Vampire when the sun rises." He tangled his fingers into her hair again. "But understand that I do not wish to leave."

She nodded, knowing that action at least would not leave her seeming foolish in his eyes.

"Thank you." She mouthed to him; afraid of the sound of her own voice just then, not wanting to break the spell he had woven over the room. He leaned towards her, and kissed her on the mouth, offering his tongue by licking at her lips gently until she parted them. As she did she heard the snickt of his fangs dropping, and she trembled, not that she had forgotten that he was a Vampire, but she was suddenly so aware of the desire he seemed to feel for her. He only held her closer. When the kiss broke she turned her head away from him, just a little, closing her eyes and tilting her chin upwards knowing he would understand the offer she made.

"Are you certain Sookie?" He whispered, even as his lips touched the skin of her neck, nuzzling her.

"Please." She asked on a breath.

She hardly felt the points as they breached her skin; they were so sharp. But she did feel the draw of his lips once the teeth pulled back, and the way his tongue coaxed the blood from the bite. His mouth, at first cold, warmed as her blood spilled into it. Eyes still closed she listened to the sound of his drinking, a smooth suckling and the gentle 'tics' as wet flesh met wet flesh. The moan that escaped her throat was utterly unbidden and honest. His arms tightened around her at the sound of it.

He did not drink for long, but she had no idea of how much he had taken, only that she felt a little lightheaded, but that could have simply been the night itself. She opened her eyes as she felt him pull away from her, trailing caresses down her throat, mouth meeting his fingertips as they unwrapped the duvet from her body. She watched him carefully clean his lips of the ruby liquid there, so that when he bent to kiss her again it was only the taste of him that she had. For that she was grateful. While the idea of the blood did not frighten her, the only memories she had of its taste, her taste, were of the cracked lips that had bled after Uncle Bartlett had smacked her too hard. The metallic tang recollection was unpleasant, and made her feel powerless and small. She felt him push his tongue into her mouth again, and as he kissed her deeply he thrust his length back inside her as well, and she arched herself for him as he did so.

Even as he kept his lips locked with hers he rocked his hips against her, withdrawing and filling her over and over with a rhythm that grew more desperate and tense with each motion. She felt the knot once again building in her gut, and this time felt his as well, the way his muscles around his hips grew tense, and those in his arms, which she was clutching as he hovered over her, grow taut. She struggled to moan as he captured her cries into his chest, and finally tore himself away from her lips long enough to roar as she felt his spasms begin deep within her. The growl both terrified and thrilled her as she gave her body to him once again, pressing her flesh hard against his and riding the wave with him.

For a second time she felt herself swept into his arms, but this time pressed against the length of his body, now warm, though she could only speculate as to why, and she did not feel the need to waste the thoughts on it. She felt happy, and spent and cared for as she nuzzled herself into his neck and kissed it absently.

"Maybe I should go and tidy up." She said with a little smile on her face. Not really wanting to leave his arms, but knowing that he would have to leave, and wanting to look less mussed for him when he did.

"I will join you in a moment." She felt his arms slacken and she sat up, pulling a bit of the jumbled sheet along with herself, to wrap her body in. He kissed her hand as he sat to match her, the most angelic, soft look glowing on his face.

She closed the door to the bathroom and then she let the sheet fall to look at herself in the mirror, first examining the puncture marks on her neck. She ran her fingers over the edges of the two red spots, noting how careful he had been, the edges not being ragged, or torn, and there only being the slightest of bruises around them. She remembered the pleasure of feeling him there. Then she looked down to see the few streaks of blood on her thighs, her first thought was discomfort, coupled with the throbbing memory of his girth, but that quickly passed as she understood the blood to be his, brought there to heal her, and then it did not seem so bad. Never the less she felt the need to be clean so she turned on the shower and after a moment, when it became warm, she stepped inside. Steam filled the room, but not so much that she failed to notice the door opening, which drew her attention to the shower curtain, parted neatly by Eric as he stepped into the spray to join her, a sweet, contented smile on his face by her reckoning. She let herself really look at his body as he closed his eyes letting the water run over him. He was amazing. His arms were muscled, and solid, his chest cut into a natural six pack a body builder would kill for, a beautiful v that tapered from his shoulders to his waist and the cuts that traced down to, well, Sookie didn't think she had a good word to describe his manhood that didn't sound crude. She blushed to herself just thinking about it and let her eyes move down to his thighs and calves and feet. They didn't disappoint either. And his deep laughter was like velvet as he realized what she was doing. She felt a little self-conscious until he pulled her off her feet to bring her to his eye level to kiss her soundly. Every part of her felt alive, her mind, her heart and her body, and right then she figured that if that feeling wasn't love then there was something wrong with the world, because you couldn't possibly feel better than she did right then. She loved Eric Northman. She felt it to her core.

He had wrapped her in the comforter so that she wouldn't see the blood, he didn't know how she would react to it, and he didn't want her to feel dirty, not after what they had done. He wanted her to remember only the joy of it. And when she had offered her blood wordlessly he knew that she really had no idea what a gift she had given him. It wasn't just the blood, which was beyond exquisite, it was her trust of him not to hurt her, giving the most intimate part of herself to a Vampire whether she understood it or not just yet. He would make her understand, slowly, and carefully, just how much he had loved her gift. He could not help himself, needing to have her again, filled with the light of her blood and presence, and their associated euphoria.

When she had left him for that moment he had called the concierge and had fresh linens delivered so that she would not have to sleep in the bloodied sheets, even if it meant that she would not lay curled in his scent for her rest. He also ordered orange juice for her, and a steak salad, odd as it seemed so early in the morning before sunrise, but not so unusual in a hotel that catered to Vampires, steak being quite rich in heme iron, something Sookie would need if he was going to continue to feed from her. He had claimed her as his own in that bed, and she had accepted with her body and blood. Eric thought of that and the ramifications of it as he made up everything for her before he joined her in the shower.

He had enjoyed that she had shyly inspected his body, a little from an egotistical point of view; he found that he enjoyed the fact that she found him attractive, but more than that, he appreciated how much she had relaxed around him, and opened her life to him. It gave him more happiness than he had felt in a long time, as if a part of his own black soul was sharing her light for those instants they were together, or more, even for those instants when he thought of her when he was alone. It seemed only natural to pull her body to his again and to continue to kiss her as the warm water poured over them both.

He dried them both off with the fresh hotel towels, taking his time running the soft terry cloth over her body, her neck, and her breasts, down to her waist and along the beautiful length of her legs as she trembled for him. He loved that she trembled for him, for something so simple as the touch of his fingers.

"You know I don't want to leave you?" He asked as he led her into the sitting room.

"I know." She said, her voice sounding strong, yet tired.

"Try to eat something before you go back to sleep Sookie. I've taken your blood and some of your strength with it. I don't want your gift to me to harm you in any way." He tucked the stray ends of her wet hair behind her ears so that the thin rivulets of water ran down onto the towel he had wrapped her in.

"I will."

She sat as he quickly rushed to the bedroom to dress, returning to her before she had time to bring the glass of juice to her lips. The sight of her in such an innocent pose tugged at him.

"We shall have to discuss your living arrangements my little one." He said as he bent to kiss her head, drinking in the scent of her hair, so like spun sunshine. "Perhaps it is time to find you a place more private? So that I will not have to leave you alone as you sleep."

"I would really like that Eric."

"As would I little one."

Sleep had come easily, in the fresh sheets and duvet, after the meal and after the blood. The crisp cotton had for a moment felt like Eric's arms as the cool wrapped her, but soon enough it warmed and she faded into dreams. There was hardly time to miss him before her subconscious brought him back to her, reliving the touches, and the taste of him, and his presence. Every word he had spoken replayed in her mind, and every nuance with which he had said them. The dreams rolled around and only the foreign sound of the radio, the one she had set to wake her an hour before sunset, disturbed them. She showered, ate and dressed, and then she took up the little phone and called Quinn to see if he could drive her to Fangtasia. Thinking about her task for the evening had her feeling electric, thinking about seeing Eric again made it even better.

Quinn arrived just as the sun's glow was painting the sky in orange and reds, the white clouds standing out amongst the flames like smoke. He wore a business-like smile to go along with the suit jacket that seemed to just nearly strain over his shoulders. As he moved to open her door for her she saw the leather of the shoulder holster he was wearing, and Sookie wondered what a man as big as him would have to be facing to feel as though he needed a gun. But as big and intimidating as he was he treated her with respect, and even kindness, making some small talk on the ride over to the club. His knock on the front door brought one of the human staff to open it, and Quinn followed her inside, motioning that she should sit at the bar as he poured her a diet coke, the Vampires not having arrived yet. The club itself would not be opening for a few more hours, Quinn had told Sookie that much on the drive over. Still, she had wanted to be there when Eric arrived, to look enthusiastic for him. She sipped at the coke and tried to engage Quinn in some conversation. She asked if he had any brothers or sisters, but his reply, of one sister was accompanied by a black cloud in his mind that Sookie found almost palpable and so she quickly moved away from the subject to ask how he enjoyed his job. He seemed substantially more comfortable talking about how fair an employer Eric Northman was, and how he rewarded loyalty in kind. Sookie was happy to listen to good things about Eric because they helped to fill in the blanks in the picture she had painted of him over the days she had known him.

Other staff began to filter in, all humans at first, and then Pam arrived, dressed in perfect pink, carrying a garment bag, likely with her club clothes for the evening. She curled up a smile at Sookie and then at Quinn, first stowing her clothing in the office, and then returning to join them at the bar; not drinking though Sookie noticed, but definitely keeping an eye on Quinn, and taking a few opportunities to run her fingers across his shoulders as she passed him. To his credit he never flinched when she did that, and Sookie began to wonder if he wasn't quite used to her advances, and if part of his job or his desires were to give into them occasionally. She did him the honor of not hunting for the information in his head. It really was none of her business. Sookie, Pam and Quinn talked for a few minutes before the front door of the club opened again, they all turned their heads to see whom it was, and Bill Compton walked in.

Sookie felt herself stiffen just at the sight of him, but she forced herself to not show the fear she was feeling. She was well practiced at that skill sadly. Bill's grin as his eyes found hers was broad and hungry looking, and Sookie could see from the corner of her eye, Pam, pocketing her blackberry. She wondered whom she must have just texted, hoping desperately that it was Eric, because she was feeling quite afraid of what Bill Compton and his smile wanted just then.

"Sookie. I'm so glad to have found you." Bill approached the bar and slid into a seat beside Sookie, putting her body between himself and Pam, and the bar between himself and Quinn.

"Hello Mr. Compton." She answered as cordially as she could, hoping he could not see her left hand's grip on the underside of her stool. Her right stayed on the bar, close to her glass, a herculean effort keeping it still.

"I realize that you have become unsure of me Sookie, but I've brought you some excellent news that is certain to make you see me in a more favorable light." Sookie wasn't sure what kind of news Bill could bring her that would make her more disposed to him, though in truth, he had done very little to actually harm her, unless you counted the offer to kill her. Really, he had acted like a Vampire should, as far as Sookie had expected of them until she had met Eric. It was really his insistence, and perhaps his outright desire of her, mostly her blood she figured that so frightened her; but that was supposed to be his nature? She found she wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt knowing that it would be better to not have him as an enemy. Pam and Quinn seemed less encouraged to do the same. Sookie could see the muscles tensing under the skin of Quinn's arms, even through his jacket.

"Yes Mr. Compton?"

"Won't you please call me Bill Sookie?" His smile grew a little less hungry, though no less impassioned to her.

"What did you have to tell me Bill?"

"I've been out to Bon Temps this night past." He began, and Sookie felt the confident look she had pasted to her face tested by the mention of her hometown.

"Yes?" Her voice had a slight waver to it, even to her ears.

"Your Uncle Bartlett has died." He said it with a note of glee; it could have been sickening to hear if Sookie wasn't already steeled with shock.

"He's dead?" She repeated.

"The man who hurt you so gravely will never be able to harm you again Sookie, nor will he be able to hurt any other child." He reached out to grab her hand, his skin felt like ice, or perhaps that was just her own. She didn't even register that Pam and Quinn had both heard his pronouncement, but Quinn's mind quickly broadcast a confusion and curiosity that he couldn't hide from her, and she couldn't keep her shields up against it.

"What happened?"

"The coroner will likely call it a cardiac event. I like to believe that his sins just caught up with him."

The shock made words tumble from her mouth before she could think about the sense of them.

"You killed him?"

"Sookie." It was like he was admonishing her with his words, even as he kept his hand atop hers on the bar. The sick feeling in her gut began to rise to her throat, but she couldn't run, there was nowhere to go and she wasn't sure her legs would even work. "I've done you a great favor."

"What do you, what do you want in return from me Bill?" The trembling in her voice was audible by then, she knew it, and she was desperately embarrassed. She felt small again; sitting on that stool seemed suddenly no different than standing on the street corner just then. She was being bought; the only thing to negotiate was the price. But now it was so much worse, because Quinn was there and Pam, and even though she'd put everything out in the blog she was certain they had never read it, and she didn't want them to know about it, because they were friendly to her, and she just didn't want to lose that when they found out the truth abut her.

"I want to offer you a job Sookie." The deep southern accent seemed so duplicitous right then, she fought back the bile.

"Doing what?"

"I want you to use your telepathic skills to listen in on people for me."

"To spy on people?"

One side of his smile rose in a leer, "to give me an advantage in business dealings."

"More like to bolster your own power Bill." Sookie's head spun to see Pam whose tone matched the sneer on Bill's face, even though hers remained beautifully sweet looking with her pink lipstick and white teeth. She then felt compelled to turn back to Bill as he responded. The dizziness was only adding to the tsunami of nausea.

"At least I'm offering her a job, a chance to get out on her own, make some money, establish herself Pam." Bill replied with a matching grin on his face, not losing his temper with Pam as far as Sookie could see, but certainly trying to chastise her as well. "Eric hasn't offered you a job has he Sookie?"

"I'm doing something for him tonight, I'm sure he'd do something for me." She squeaked it out, not certain at all of the truth of her statement.

"What kind of job do you think Eric Northman would offer you Sookie? A back booth with veils and rings to tell peoples' fortunes?"

"Well, no, but," He cut her off as she stumbled over her words.

"He wants exactly the same thing from you as I do. A telepath to spy on enemies, and give us information we can use to gain power. But at least I am being honest about my intentions, not cowing around you, keeping you, buying you gifts, and speaking to you with pretty words." He leaned in to breathe in the scent of her, making her tremble with fear.

"Eric isn't like that." She sobbed, not with tears but with the catch in her throat that meant they weren't far off.

"Oh my god, he's made you fall in love with him."

The door from the back slammed open with such force that Sookie jumped and was sure that the hinges had to have suffered some damage. Pam and Quinn, she noted, didn't even glance backwards, though Bill certainly stared over her shoulder to see who had entered, not that there was a question. His fangs dropped. She heard the same of the man behind her in the otherwise quiet space.

"Bill!" The ancient voice roared, causing Sookie to jump again. Pam just grinned. "I have been very specific that you are not to frighten Miss Stackhouse!"

"I'm not frightening her Eric. Merely enlightening her to the truth of things."

"I do not believe that your version of the truth matches with mine."

"In fact Eric, I believe they may be one and the same, as the truth always is." He said to Eric with an arrogant toss of his head that Sookie thought was far more than overconfidence and she pulled away from the bar, and the cold hand that had remained on top of hers even as she had started with Eric's entrance.

She stood herself almost between the two of them as they bored holes in each other with their eyes, fangs gracing two severe smiles.

"And what truth is that Bill?"

"The truth that you only want Sookie for the same reason I want her. For her abilities as a telepath."

"Do not presume to understand my motives Bill."

"Well," he cocked his head at Eric with a mock countenance of confusion, "What are your motives Eric? Why is it you feel the need to wine and dine and make love to this girl?"

Sookie felt as though a blade had been pushed into her gut, short of breath and will she could do nothing but watch and listen as the Vampires squared off at opposites over her.

"What motives I have for wanting to be with this woman are no concern of yours!" Eric advanced on Bill in the best display of menacing as Sookie could imagine.

"Then tell her what your motives are! So she knows that you and I are no different, except in that I am telling her the truth." Bill turned to Sookie to watch her reactions; she could see the glee in his eyes.

"These are matters for a private discussion between Sookie and I, not for a public forum such as this!" Eric gestured with his hands thrown open to the expanse of Fangtasia, and the other denizens; Pam and Quinn, the humans having fled the confrontation at its outset.

"He will not tell you Sookie, because he has no noble motives." Bill announced in triumph.

"Eric?" She wasn't even certain that he could hear her plaintive squeak, but he had and responded.

"I swear to you Sookie that I will tell you everything when the time is right and when we are alone." His voice had softened for her, but still held its majestic quality. The fact that there was no answer forthcoming though, cut her deeply.

"I have to go." She said to no one in particular, stumbling to the door, vision blurred with the tears of feeling her world falling apart. She barely noticed the gust of Bill's movement, but she felt the pain of his grasp on her upper arm as he grabbed her, keeping her from opening the door. There were three growls, Pam, Eric, and the most frightening of all, Quinn, whose roar at Bill's action invaded to Sookie's very marrow with its ferocity. He leapt over the bar with an agility Sookie had not expected in a man his size.

"Let her go Bill!" Was Eric's order.

"You would let something this valuable walk out Eric? You are a fool!" His grip tightened and Sookie winced at the pain, the tears rolling down her cheeks in fear and in sorrow.

"Quinn! If Mr. Compton does not release Sookie by the time you reach him I want you to rip his arm off." Quinn menaced Bill with three more steps towards him.

"You would send your Tiger to stop me Eric?"

"Quinn?" The monotone seriousness of the command was all anyone would have needed to obey, even without the grin on Quinn's face. Bill dropped her arm leaving Sookie beyond confused. Bill backed away, though still kept himself close enough to the door Sookie noted, to grab her up and run, or to run alone if the need arose. Eric's next words shocked more than just Sookie.

"Quinn. Take her away. Take her someplace safe, wherever she wants to go. Your service to me is dissolved. I will care for my end of our deal as long as is required. Go someplace with her, help her start a new life, the life she wants. I'll have enough money wired to your account to care for her and for you. Do not return, and then she will always be safe from us."

"Eric?"

"Go Sookie. If you do not want to be here, then go."

"You want me to leave Eric?"

"No Sookie, I want you to stay. But I will not force anything on you."

"But I promised to help you tonight, to read for you?"

"I absolve you of your promise Sookie."

"Does someone's word mean so little to you Eric?" She squared up her shoulders, afraid, yet needing to fight somehow, something, to grasp the strength of herself. "Because my word means a great deal to me, and I intend to hold you to yours."

She stepped away from the door a few feet, nearer to Bill as it turned out, and faced Eric, angrily wiping the tears from her face and sniffling her nose.

"I will stay and do as I have promised, but you will do as you have sworn too Eric. You will tell me what you want from me, and why you chose to save me!" The thin scream caused a smile to grow on Eric's face as she locked eyes with him in her fury.

"I swear it will be thus my little one." And he actually bowed his head to her just slightly which made her indignation feel just a little more justified. Then she turned back to Bill, who, if it was possible, looked just a little paler, sensing that his plan had all but failed with the look Sookie presented to him.

"Bill." She left off the hurt and the fear that he had instilled in her with his words and actions, knowing that acknowledging it would accomplish nothing but giving him power over her. "I cannot thank you for what you have done in killing my Uncle. For me to be happy about such a thing makes me no better than him in the way he took pleasure in terror. But I cannot hate you either for the action. I am not in your debt Bill, I hope you can leave it this way, and walk away."

"I think walkin' away would be an excellent idea Bill." It was Pam's voice that punctuated the statement, in a Southern Drawl that Sookie wasn't certain of; whether it was mocking Bill, or whether Pam's deep emotions brought out an accent of a hundred practiced years, either way, it did the job. She could have been the same indignant Southern Belle that Sookie felt in her own blood. And that shred of kinship, even after the revelations made Sookie feel just a little bit lighter.

"I'm going to go wait in your office until you need me Eric." And she walked past all of them, not looking backwards, slamming the door behind herself, and fighting the tears that threatened her resolve.


	25. Chapter 25

This chapter, more like 24.5, was inspired by all the reviews that asked and hypothesized what everyone was feeling as Bill made his announcement. It's a little bit of fluff in the POV of the five characters that were in the room at the time. I hope you enjoy the interlude and the understanding.

Thanks to CH for these delicious characters.

Merick

Chapter 25

PPOV

Bill Compton? I've always felt there was something seriously wrong with that man but now I have evidence to back me up. To come into Eric's bar, his sheriff's bar no less, and confront him, no accuse him of being untruthful and devious, in front of witnesses? Whether the statements are fact or not means nothing, there's a protocol to be followed, something Bill is generally exceptional at, owing to his lust for power. That was not protocol. I texted Eric the moment I saw the leer in his eyes directed at Sookie. I could tell by the scent on her body that Eric had claimed her and I could tell by the way she spoke of him that she had let him. As Eric's child, and as his friend, I was honor bound to notify him, and stand in his place should the need have arisen. Fortunately for Bill, it did not, because while I didn't understand why my maker chose not to end him right there, I know I would not have been so generous.

It is not my place to question Eric, at least not in front of witnesses; that's protocol. I shall likely do it later, and I have a great many questions. She told me that she was telepathic, but no mention was made of any Uncle, and the way that Bill announced it, and the way that she shrank within herself again as he did, I can deduce exactly what this man did to her. Eric has to be aware of it and I wonder if it was part of drawing him to her, and if it was, why? That is a question I doubt he will answer for me, though I will likely ask it, when he's in a good mood, and I am across the room with the door open.

Eric has been doing a great many things that have surprised me of late. The obsession with the breather, as cute and talented as she is, was unexpected. His increasing time away from the bar; though I suspect that has a lot to do with the aforementioned breather. Asking me about lingerie was another one, but it was easy enough to point him to Si Belle, my favorite company. I'd like to be able to say that he's been more relaxed of late, but I can't. This latest toy has him wound quite cockeyed. I suppose I can understand why he didn't just have Bill killed in front of her; besides having to explain it to the Queen, you don't want to make a bad impression on the new girlfriend and all. But actually offering to let her leave? Well, if I'd had breath that could be taken away it would have been. Going all King Solomon on me? We are going to have a talk one of these nights. In the interim I am going to get a drink, a human drink, or better, a were tiger. I'll leave Eric to sort out what to do with Bill; he won't need Quinn for a few minutes.

QPOV

Sookie is a sweet girl, a really sweet girl. She doesn't deserve to get mixed up with Bill Compton. When he came stomping in here looking like the proverbial cat with feathers in its mouth I got worried. But when he started talking about Sookie's Uncle I got angry. It wasn't hard to figure out he was what we used to call 'a funny relative' the one you tried to avoid. Doesn't sound like anyone was there to protect Sookie. Goddamned son of a bitch is lucky I didn't know about what he did to that little girl before Bill got out there. The coroner wouldn't have any trouble sorting out cause of death if it had been me to rip out his throat. Only trouble would be tracking down a tiger in the swamps of Louisiana. No man should touch a woman in that way, especially not a girl. Bill Compton was likely a lot more merciful than I'd have been in his place. Not saying he's a good man mind you, I've got a lot more respect for women than he does. It isn't hard to see, what with the women he brings into the club and those he leaves with. I can't begrudge a man his needs, but not at the expense of others.

I can't believe she's also a telepath. I don't think she's been in my mind, or if she has, not too deeply, otherwise she probably wouldn't be so polite around me. If she'd seen the things I'd done she'd be pretty horrified I bet. Not that I'm bemoaning my situation. God gives you a talent for a reason, and mine has kept my mom and my sister safe for a very long time. God and Eric Northman that is, not that I'm comparing the two. I may go to hell, but Mom and Sis won't. So why then, I have to ask myself, would Eric tell me to take her away, completely away from him, and to stay with her? He knows I'll follow his orders to the letter, that's the nature of our bargain, but she seems like such a precious thing to him, I can't see him letting her go in the first place. I envy him sometimes; okay a lot of the time, for his power, his ease of place in the world as a supe, his money and his connections, and now for that little girl. He offered her a brand new life, and me along with her, and if she'd have gone I think I would have been a happy man to have her as my charge for as long as she would have let me be. If things were different she'd be the kind of girl I'd be looking for, if I could grow a relationship. Sweet, innocent, a beautiful smile and an innate friendliness that even her funny uncle doesn't seem to have been able to squash completely. It doesn't matter what demons she has, I have my own, and it would have been a blessing to work through them with her. It would have been a beautiful match in some fantasy; course I don't allow myself fantasies. I have needs, but not much more.

Of course I have Pam, or she has me, that's probably the most fulfilling relationship for me right now anyways. She wants my blood, I get the pleasure of her body, and there is no pillow talk; hell there usually isn't a pillow, and no expectations. She lives for the night, just as I live for the day. One hour at a time until we die. I could ask for more, but I don't.

I would have taken Compton's arm off given the order. I might still be ordered to take him down. But I will leave that to Eric. For now Sookie is safe, and Pam is running her fingertips across my bicep. I know well enough that Eric needs to be left alone to his work now, and that Pam wants my attention. Right now, with the adrenalin in my blood, I am prepared to give it to her. I hope I get to see Sookie again.

EPOV

The text from Pam came as I was dressing. I had allowed myself the luxury of a lie in, a few moments in a quiet house to relive what had transpired. Despite the shower the scent of her body clung to my memory, as did the taste of her blood. Even twelve hours of sleep had not dulled the sensations of it in every cell. I felt alive and the prospect of seeing her again, and tasting her again, and making love to her again loomed over my every action. Not to say that I was incoherently mooning over her, because I wasn't. But I had a great many serious things to consider for that evening, not the least of which was the interrogation of my accountant, and a stolen moment remembering the passions was a brief respite in what might turn out to be a difficult night.

I had not believed those difficulties would begin quite so soon as they did however. The cryptic text "Bill's here, you better come" from my child set me to quick anger and even quicker action. Pam did not text me with needless 'tweets'. It could not have taken me more than another four minutes, five at the most to make my way to the club. Bill's last line to Sookie before my violent entrance will stay with me for a very long time, mostly because she never had the chance to answer it. I don't think I am ready to hear her answer.

While I had not expected Bill to stay away forever I had hoped that he would give me one more night alone with Sookie; I suppose that was a vain hope. I just really thought Bill had more sense, another failing on my part I see. His desire for power, above my own it seems, knows little patience now that Sookie has become part of our lives. His audacity in questioning me, and my motives would have earned him a swift death had we been anywhere but Fangtasia. Perhaps it would not have been the smartest reaction on my part, he being such a favorite of the Queen for some reason; likely his skills at bullshit.

It cut me, I am not ashamed to admit, when Sookie stared at me hesitant to discount the lines Bill was throwing at her, and I hated him for planting a seed of doubt about my character when I had spent so many days trying to get her to trust me. I told her to go, I told her I would force nothing on her, it was the same thing I had been telling her since the night I met her. She has been compelled to live a life not of her own choosing for long enough. I understand that feeling. There is so much more I need to discover about this woman, I will not have her suspect me of something ill and come to fear me.

But now I have to deal with Bill Compton, and even if Sookie is not here to witness my actions I will not lie to her about them if she should ask me. So I must tread carefully. Not only do I have to be concerned with my lover's perceptions, but with my Queen's. And so I look Bill Compton directly in the eyes and I snarl with a roar even Quinn would be proud of and then I tell him what is going to happen.

BPOV

Shit.

SPOV

I hold my little cell phone in my hand like it's some kind of pacemaker, as if without that grip my heart would just flutter into uncontrolled beats and finally stop. But of course, it isn't even my phone really, it's just another thing that Eric has given me. The Vampires seem to have given me everything if I really stop to think about it; and right now it's all I'm thinking about. I used to pride myself; well perhaps pride is a strong word, I used to be able to judge people better. Of course reading people's minds made that easier, but for the last few years I have been generally able to avoid getting myself into situations where I am deceived, or where I feel deceived. And right now I don't want to feel that way, I want to believe Eric and the way he made me feel. But I haven't been thinking with my head. Why else would Eric want me but to do exactly as Bill has said? It's what every man has ever wanted me for; to use me for his own desires.

I want to cry, I want to scream and yell and throw things, which isn't really like me, but for a few days I had hope, a few beautiful days, and I should never have let myself fall like that; nothing has even been good before, why suddenly would it be now? But I hate this, and it makes me feel sick, and I look at the phone again. Uncle Bartlett is dead, Jason will know by now, and I should call him, just to make sure he is okay. I thumb over the keypad, brushing the call button over and over, never with enough pressure to actually engage it. I send my mind out to see if anyone is coming near to the office, but besides the quick flash of Quinn's mind that moves past the door, mostly closed down to me, there is nothing. He's with Pam. I can't tell that it's her from the void itself, but she is on his mind for some reason, I don't want to explore anymore, I don't want to know if he's thinking about me, I'm happier seeing that he isn't. Besides that, there is nothing. Everyone is staying away, and for that I am thankful. I push the button properly and hold the phone to my ear.

It rings once, then twice, and a third time before I hear the click that means that he has picked up, but it isn't Jason's voice.

"Hello?" It is a woman's voice, not one that I recognize.

"Is Jason there?" I ask hesitantly, I really hadn't thought this call out very well.

"I'm sorry, there's been a death in the family, he isn't taking calls right now."

"Who is this?"

"My name is Maudette. Who's this?"

"Was it Jason's Uncle who died?"

"It was, who's this?" She was sounding suspicious of me then.

"I knew Jason a long time ago."

"Was there any message?"

"No, I suppose not."

"Not even condolences for him? He's really hurting right now?" Suspicion turned to annoyance pretty fast in this Maudette person.

"I'm sorry Jason is hurting." That was all I could give her and I hung up quickly. I shouldn't have made the call. I set the phone down on the edge of the desk and turned away from it, burying my face in my hands.

I am not going to cry I keep telling myself over and over, for all the good it does. I am looking around for a Kleenex when the little phone rings. I don't know who I expected it to me, certainly not Eric he was only just in the next room. I answered it.

"Sookie?" I knew that voice.

"Jason." I choked out past a sob.

"Oh God it is you, I told Maudette it had to be you. Sookie, Uncle Bartlett is dead." It sounded as though he'd been doing his own share of crying.

"I know Jason. I heard."

"He must have been chasing some kind of animal, wild cat or raccoon or skunk. He fell in the pond or had a heart attack or something. Oh God Sookie. He's gone."

I couldn't say anything, I just kind of hung there on the line, breathing, trying to keep my stomach settled, because Jason's reaction made me want to throw up. I didn't want to be evil, but I didn't want anyone to mourn for that bastard. He didn't deserve that.

"Sookie? Are you still there?"

"I'm here Jason."

"Are you going to come home for the services Sookie?"

"No Jason, I'm not."

"Why not, he's family, do you hate us that much Sookie?"

"I don't hate you Jason." I didn't want to, really I didn't, though I know that part of me still did, it wasn't the time to bring all that up. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm not okay Sookie!" I was sure his anger really had nothing to do with me; he had no idea that it was my fault Uncle Bartlett was dead. But for getting involved with these Vampires he'd still be alive and my brother wouldn't be hurting. Of course I'd been hurting for eleven years. I fought back the bile at that thought.

"I'm sorry Jason."

"Come home Sookie, and pay your respects. This man took us in and looked after us." His anger pleaded with me, but I knew I wasn't giving in.

"You really have no idea." I sobbed one last time. "Goodbye Jason." I hung up the phone again. I wanted him to call back; I wanted him to ask after me, ask what I meant, and where I'd been all these years. But it didn't happen. Once again, he was oblivious my brother. Absorbed in himself, and himself alone. At least that is what I was feeling right then. Maybe I wasn't being fair?

I found the box of Kleenex and grabbed up a handful, dabbing at my eyes, hoping I wouldn't look like a raccoon before my performance. I gentle knock at the door startled me.

"May I come in Sookie?" It was Eric's voice.

"It's your office." I called back feebly through the closed door. I watched him open it and then stand in the doorway for a few seconds, surveying me no doubt, before he entered and closed the door behind himself.


	26. Chapter 26

The reviews for the last chapter were very thoughtful, and I apologize for not getting back to everyone as I normally try to do. I appreciate that many of you were confused by Sookie's actions, wanting to leave, yet holding such value on a person's words. Thank you to those of you who mentioned how confused she must have been as her little world suddenly was torn open, that was the stress I was trying to portray. I hope that this new chapter will help settle her mood swings a little more, and demonstrate that our Viking, while softened around little Sookie, is still an intelligent Vampire who acts with thought and planning, even if others don't always appreciate his motives instantly.

So thank you again for those of you who are still reading, and thanks to those who have the time to review. I sincerely appreciate all your thoughts.

Merick

Chapter 26

"Are you all right?" he asked her before taking another step.

"Not even close Eric." Her throat sounded a little raw to his ears, but instead of raising sympathy in Eric it raised his ire.

"Bill had no right to come here and upset you the way he did."

"I just don't understand anything anymore Eric. It was so simple when I woke up today, now I have this doubt inside me, and I hate the way it is making me feel." She continued to dab at her eyes with the Kleenex, hoping to save some semblance of her mascara.

"Sookie?" He took a few steps into the room, to stand just beside the end of the couch, opposite to where she was sitting. "Please trust me when I tell you that everything I have said to you to this point is absolutely the truth."

"That's just the thing Eric," she dabbed again, "you really haven't told me anything. I mean you've been so sweet and wonderful, but I don't know why you keep me around, or what you want from me."

"And I promise you, when we are done here I will take you someplace private, my home, and I will tell you and show you everything."

"What if that isn't good enough Eric?" The reddened rims of her eyes reminded him of the blood tears, "What if I say I need to know it now, before I meet your accountant and dive into his head?"

"Then we will go now." Eric didn't hesitate for an instant in his response to her. "I will call it all off, Pam can deal with it herself. We will go." And he held out his hand. The gesture brought a new round of tears.

"You would really let me just walk away from this, or walk away from you?" She sobbed.

"I cannot compel you to do anything Sookie, I will not ask it of you. And if you wish to go, now or at any time in the future, I will not stop you, and I will not pursue you. Quinn will keep you safe in my stead if you want, or we will all leave you be." The sincerity was obvious in the way he spoke to her, and he watched her take a deep breath, steadying her trembling finally.

"I want to stay and do this for you Eric. But afterwards you have to tell me what is going on. Please."

"I swear it again to you Sookie. And I swear there is no malice. Things are just, complicated, and I wish to approach them in the right way, not in a forced conversation, and not in public. You deserve that privacy and respect." And so did he, he thought to himself as he sat beside her on the loveseat, though not reaching for her hand. She was hunched over just a bit, and even if she did not meet his eyes completely, he felt a little more encouraged that he could undo the damage Bill had done.

"Why would you send Quinn with me?"

"Because I know him as a man of honour, and principles, and it is the nature of our arrangement that he do these things for me."

"Is being with Pam part of your arrangement as well?"

"No, what they do together is not my concern, as I understand it she quite likes the taste of his blood. She says it's wild and powerful. I have never tasted it myself."

"What is Quinn?" Eric could not help but smile at the innocent question. It did not surprise him that Sookie had sorted out that Quinn was different.

"He is a were-tiger Sookie."

"Were-tiger? Like as in Werewolf?" The way her eyes widened amused him so much, he could have almost fed off her innocence.

"Don't make the comparison in front of him, he is quite proud of his dual nature and might find it debasing to be compared to a wolf."

"Do you have werewolves working for you as well Eric?" She didn't seem nearly as shocked as he thought she might be, but of course, he reasoned, she was probably quite in shock over everything else that had transpired and unable to process another revelation.

"I don't much care for werewolves, so no, but I do have one in Jackson who is indebted to me for a favor."

"Is everyone around you in debt to you somehow?"

"I don't think so." Eric actually let a little bit of shock cross his face at the accusation, knitting his eyebrows together.

"Quinn has a deal with you, you have a werewolf who owes you, and you have me?"

"You are not indebted to me for anything Sookie, please do not feel that way. And besides that, there is Pam, and Bill, and Long Shadow. None of them owe me anything." But Eric realized that his list was mostly without a great deal of substance, even if Sookie didn't know it.

"They're all vampires." She replied.

"Well the accountant isn't indebted to me in any way?" He tried to respond, to justify his statement, but he was startled to see that from her point of view, or from anyone's point of view, that it might look as though most everyone around him was beholden to him for something. Maybe they were?

"Depending what we find out tonight, he may very well end up dead mightn't he Eric?"

"Well I don't expect to kill him." His voice actually went up as he found himself in a defensive position suddenly.

"And speaking of killing, what have you done with Bill Compton?" Eric could see the little streak of fire coming out in Sookie again, and he liked it. It meant she was fighting back against the fear that was threatening her, demonstrated by the tears and the growing pile of Kleenex on the loveseat beside her.

"I have not killed him either Sookie, though I certainly could have made a strong case for it."

"How so?"

"He chose to malign my good character in my own place of business in front of my child and my employees. Though it may not actually be treason, as I am not his regent, I am his Sherriff and Vampires have died for less of an affront. To add to this, he made advances towards my human. That's you." He added, just in case she didn't understand. "I have declared you mine and as such he had no right questioning my intentions in front of you, or offering you a job, and whatever other benefits he might have mentioned. Putting his hands on you gave me the right to defend you as I saw fit."

"So what have you done?"

"I've sent him away. I pointed out his two grievous errors to him, and while he was mostly unrepentant of those, his murder of the human, your Uncle, was certainly a better bargaining chip." Eric was actually quite proud of the restraint he had shown, because it had felt awfully good to have his long fingers wrapped around Bill's throat. He knew he couldn't suffocate the man, but he also knew that enough pressure would crush the tissues until his head separated itself from the rest of his body in a temporary rush of blood and gore until the whole thing turned to ash. Bill had nowhere near the strength it would have taken to break the grip, and would have had to watch Eric's eyes the whole time his throat was being compressed. It would have been very satisfying; Eric thought to himself, it might still be because Bill's untimely end could be found in a much more private venue, Fangtasia didn't need any more scrutiny, from local police or their Vampire equivalent. He let the thought bring a little smile before continuing to explain himself to Sookie.

"Vampire courts have a significantly smaller burden of proof than human courts. It can be a good thing, and it can be a bad one. But in this case, his 'confession' in front of a mortal, a were and a Vampire, all of good character, would likely be enough to embarrass a Queen, or condemn him in front of a magister."

"So where is he?"

"I have suggested to him as the price of my silence, that he take his leave of me, and attend the Queen to request her permission to begin a new mission. Bill Compton's interest in Genealogy does not limit itself to tracing his own family, but to tracing the whereabouts of Vampires who have come out of the coffin; a useful document for any regent to be certain. Since he has often espoused a desire to continue his research beyond the borders of your United States I have suggested that a trip to South America might just be in order.

"I imagine he will find himself very busy there, and quite gainfully employed. Knowing his unique personality I imagine he will make many new friends in the local population. And he knows that if I see him in my Area again, that I will bring the true death to him without waiting for an explanation of his presence." And if Bill didn't make his own friends, Eric had several who might enjoy the task of introducing themselves to Compton.

"So he's really gone?"

"He is Sookie. I am only sorry that I did not anticipate his actions so that I might have spared you the hurt of them. I cannot imagine you want me to say that I am sorry that your Uncle is gone?"

"No."

"But might I say that I am sorry that you have had to deal with this, and that you will not have the chance to confront him with his actions, and bring him to justice properly." He watched her sniffle and then shake herself.

"I just wanted people to know the truth Eric, so they'd stop blaming me. Now it'll never happen, and people will just honor a man who was a monster."

"Perhaps if you explained it to your brother now? It would be safe to go back and see him. I could take you myself?"

"Jason won't see it my way, he won't believe me."

"How do you know this Sookie?"

"Because I just spoke with him, all he was worried about was how I abandoned him." Eric could see more tears welling up in her eyes and he reached into his pocket to retrieve another linen handkerchief, dabbing at her eyes himself. He had thought he had heard her speaking, but hadn't thought that it was on the cell phone.

"He's in shock Sookie."

"Please don't defend him, I want to be mad at him for just a little while longer." She even laughed a little sadly at herself just then.

"My little one." Eric tried to pull her into his arms but felt her resist.

"I'm gonna be mad at Vampires too for a little while longer if that's all right?"

"Of course." Eric laughed with her, loving that she had finally let a smile grace her beautiful face. "Would you like me to send Pam in with her make-up kit?"

"Oh my God, I look terrible now don't I?" In a sudden panic she dropped her face down, but Eric pulled it back up with his two fingers under her chin.

"You could never look terrible to me Sookie." And he kissed her quickly, grinning the whole while, then leapt away.

"Eric." Her protest was minimal.

"I have always found it easier to ask for forgiveness rather than permission." He joked. "Now let me find Pam."

"Do you think she and Quinn are done?"

"I'm certain they are, Pam doesn't waste a lot of time, neither does Quinn to hear her tell it."

"She talks to you about that kind of thing?"

"She does."

"You didn't say anything about us, about last night did you?"

"Not a word I promise you my little one, I will not share even an image of you with another."

The man that Pam ushered cordially into the main area of the bar was in his mid forties, just beginning to lose his hair, and just beginning to get wrinkles at the corner of his eyes. He tried to put a confident look on his face and in his walk, after all it was only Pam and Eric in the room to begin with, they'd met with him dozens of times, and evening summons weren't at all unusual when you worked for vampires. Pam had known all of that, and had made things seem as casual as all their other meetings; getting him a drink, having the music playing in the background and keeping the house lights up making small talk about him, men loved it when a beautiful woman asked after them, even if she was a Vampire. Only when Sookie entered the room did the man begin to let the first sign of nervousness slip past his hard face. That pleased Eric, when subjects for interrogation were unnerved they were often much more supple targets. Eric took the seat directly across from the man, and Sookie sort of drifted behind him, keeping closer to Pam; who had sympathetically repaired all her tear stained makeup and pronounced her a natural beauty once she was done. Eric kept his eyes on the accountant, but his mind on Sookie.

"Davis, there have been some issues in the last number of months with our financials." Eric began; unlike Pam he made no small talk.

"Issues Mr. Northman?"

"The outgoing product doesn't seem to be matching the incoming revenue. And suddenly the police are starting to poke around Fangtasia, though I cannot say if it is for the same reason. Can you shed any light on this?" He resisted glamouring the man right at the outset, hoping that the truth would be easier to come by honestly.

"I don't know that I can Mr. Northman, I take the counts from the till as Long Shadow gives them to me, and run the numbers."

"And nothing had seemed out of balance to you Davis?"

"No sir."

Eric looked past the man, and directly at Sookie.

"Sookie?"

"He's hiding something." She whispered. The man whirled in his chair, but just as quickly was turned back to face Eric by Pam's strong hands.

"What is it that you don't want me to know Davis?" Eric's voice practically dripped honey, venomous honey.

"I've been counting everything Mr. Northman."

"He was certain that you weren't stupid enough not to notice that money was missing Eric." Sookie's voice was again quiet; not that everyone assembled missed hearing it.

"Well, at least he has some common sense." Eric leaned over the table a little, his voice practically forcing the man to look him in the eye. "Are you taking my money Davis?"

"No sir. It isn't me, I swear it." The man's voice took on a bit of a dreamy tone as Eric compelled the answers from him.

"It isn't him." Sookie confirmed.

"Who then?" He needed to hear the name spoken out loud; it would be the proverbial, or perhaps not so proverbial nail in the coffin for his soon to be former business partner. The gaze he held on his accountant was stone, willing the answer from him as if he could plant the urge in the man's mind to spill all he knew with no further words.

"Long Shadow." Came the pitiful answer as he tried to drop his head to the table, but he was unable to break the grip of Eric's eyes.

"Why!" Was Eric's roar. "What could he offer you!" The man could only whimper.

"Immortality Eric." He pulled his gaze from the man and looked up at Sookie. Her arms were wrapped around her body, the muscles taut, her lips pursed together trying not to look afraid, but not making a good job of it. "Long Shadow offered to turn him."

"Sookie?"

"He's getting older, he's seeing the lines on his face, the way his body doesn't respond as quickly as it used to. He's never had much luck with women, but he figures if he's a Vampire he'll get women to want him."

"You did this for women?"

Davis nodded his head feebly.

"What did Long Shadow want with this money?"

Will broken, humiliated, Davis couldn't speak, so Eric watched as Sookie took the few steps between her and the man, to come to stand right behind him, uncoiling her hands and touching him very lightly on the shoulders. She began to speak, eyes closed and facial gestures moving rapidly as she tried to find words with which to express the jumbled thoughts she pulled from his mind.

"He hates this place. He thinks Fangtasia is for humans to watch Vamps like they're in a Zoo. He hates pandering to them, and serving them drinks. He wants to drink from them, and take their lives like he used to be able to, when he was first turned. He wants to be away from here, but he hasn't said much more about his plans to this man Eric."

"But the money he's stolen, it's such a small amount each week, it would take him years to raise capital enough to place himself in such a position." Eric knew that money could buy almost everything; almost up to a human life.

"He's also been selling his blood." That revelation made Eric furious, though he did not have much time to properly consider the ramifications just then.

Before Eric could even roar in his anger the front doors of the club were thrown open with a terrible crash, Sookie screamed as the blur that was Long Shadow threw itself towards her and the man still seated across from Eric. Both were knocked to the floor by the force, but before Long Shadow could collect himself enough to grab up Sookie Eric had him by the throat and was hauling him up into the air. Being a good foot and a bit taller than the other Vampire, and hundreds of years older it was easy to leave him dangling as his fingers compressed his throat, much as he had done to Bill Compton not that much earlier. But unlike what he had done for Bill Compton, he did not give Long Shadow the chance to leave mostly unmolested. Instead, perhaps inspired by the generosity of earlier event, he began to squeeze the flesh until it began to bulge between his pale fingers, becoming reddened as the blood came to the surface of the otherwise almost pale, cool neck. Long Shadow's origin had meant he had been able to keep his natural coloring longer than most vampires, and for a great many years he had been able to pass as more human than most. Eric waited to hear noises of protest from Long Shadow, but was disappointed in that matter. Even Sookie was quieter than he had expected, and he turned to assure himself of her wellbeing. She had not yet picked herself up off the floor, but the ruckus had brought Quinn who was assisting her, just as Pam was righting the accountant. He could hear her heartbeat, and knew it was racing, but he also knew she was in no immediate danger, as long as he kept his hand around Long Shadow's throat.

Unlike Bill Compton, who had not wanted to actually harm Sookie beyond bending her to his will, Long Shadow fully intended to rip her throat out, and Eric knew that if he had managed to shed even a few drops of her blood that her secret, the one she didn't even know about, would have been out. Long Shadow might have understood the nature of her blood; there had been fairies in the Americas. Pam would not have understood, but as much as he loved and trusted Pam's strength, he did not know if she could control her desire for the blood without his help. Long Shadow would have been a mightier force to deal with.

To give him credit, Long Shadow held Eric's piecing gaze of rage with as much as he could muster of his own, even as his skin began to split under the pressure of the Viking's fingers and the blood began to drip down Eric's wrist to the floor. He did not even try to bring his hands up to offer any kind of resistance. As the trachea collapsed there was a hollow sound, nearly drowned out by the music, but not to Eric's ears. The next sounds, the crackling of the cervical vertebrae brought a predatory grin to Eric. C2 popped first, like chalk, then C3 and C4 with louder pops, like china plates being snapped. Then with a twist of his powerful wrist Eric saw Long Shadow's eyes go glassy, as his head lolled to his left, attached only by threads of skin, quickly torn by the weight of the truly lifeless corpse beneath them, before it turned to the ash typical of Vampire death. And Eric found himself blackened by the anticlimactic burst of soot as the body disintegrated completely.

Only then did Eric finally hear Sookie sobbing again.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

"Quinn!" Eric was in full Sherriff mode just then, and the Were, who had come running into the main room after the crash of Long Shadow's entry snapped to attention. "Take Sookie out of here! Back to the office. Please." Realizing his voice and commands might seem unduly harsh, especially after the death Sookie had witnessed, he added the 'please'. He watched the giant man bundle Sookie into his arms, lifting her from the floor and guiding her away.

"I will only be a moment Sookie." He called after her, wheeling directly afterwards to face the accountant who Pam was in the process of picking up off the floor and settling back into a chair.

"Thank you for coming this evening Davis." There was no pretense of normal conversation, Eric took the man's eyes with his own forcing the glamour on him, not prepared to waste a second longer on the matter. He sat himself heavily on the chair he had previously been occupying. "While we are certainly upset that you have decided to move out of the state we understand your personal reasons for wanting to move to Florida. It was very generous of you to offer to send over a complete accounting of our books tomorrow."

"Of course Eric, I know it isn't much notice, but I do appreciate your understanding." The man's voice sounded as strong as if the idea had been his all along, which of course he believed it was.

"As for the loan that Long Shadow has been drawing from Fangtasia, if you wouldn't mind preparing whatever documents will be required for him to pay it back, with an appropriate interest rate, using his shares in the club I would appreciate it."

"Well of course Eric, shall I transfer those shares to you?"

"To Pam and I equally, thank you. And if you can compile an accounting of all his other funds I will be certain he gets them when he comes in."

"Absolutely, I'll have it all put together for you and delivered by tomorrow evening."

Eric stood, not offering his hand, but only a curt nod, as was his usual response. Davis knew to stand as well, also nodding. It was a tidy solution to the problem, Davis' memory would not include the event of Long Shadow's death, any ties to the embezzlement were erased, and the accounting of Long Shadow's funds could be forwarded to his maker, who was now entitled to them, but a carefully worded letter as to how much of them were accrued, with the selling of his blood, would ensure that there would be no contesting of the death. Eric watched Davis leave, a passive grin on his face, totally content with the new life that had just been imposed on him.

"Pam? A towel?" She threw one at him from behind the bar and he proceeded to remove the dust from his face and hands, brushing it from his chest last. "We are going to need a new accountant." He threw the towel back at her and turned to go to the office. "Oh, and a new bartender too if you don't mind?"

"Send Quinn out to me, I'm sure he can pour drinks for the night." She called back as he disappeared.

Sookie was curled back into the corner of the couch, with Quinn standing between her and the door Eric entered by. He was watching her, but had not tried to comfort her physically. Smart man, Eric noted.

"Pam needs you out front Quinn."

"Call me if you need me for anything Eric." Quinn gave the same curt nod and passed by the still Vampire, closing the door behind himself.

"Sookie?" He approached her slowly. She raised her head, saw him, and practically flew into his arms, the force of which actually made him stagger back a half step. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close to his chest as she trembled.

"Oh Eric." She mewled into his chest.

"Sookie, I am sorry you had to see that. I should have had Quinn take you out of the room." He began to try to explain.

"He was going to kill me Eric." She pulled away enough to look up into his face.

"He will never harm you again Sookie."

"He was going to kill me, and you stopped him."

"Sookie?" Eric was confused.

"You are the first person in my whole life," She wiped a tear away from her eye, "who has ever stepped forward to protect me. Thank you."

"Oh Sookie." He pulled her close again. "I will always protect you. You don't have to fear anything or anyone ever again."

He had not expected that response, indeed he had expected her to be horrified at his actions, and to look at him like a monster, not like her savior. It would not have surprised him in the slightest if she had fled completely after that. Eric had never intended to hide his vampyric nature from her, but neither had he intended to express the predator in quite the way he had that night. But she was wrapped in his arms, pressed to his chest, warm and loving and all he wanted was to tell her everything right then.

"I want to go Sookie, I want to take you away from here, to my home, will you come?"

"Yes, please."

"I didn't bring my car this evening, I was in such a hurry. Will you fly with me, or shall I get us a car?"

"I want to fly."

"Then let us go."

It only took Eric moments to take them both to his house; he did not linger in the flight, but moved as quickly as he believed was safe for Sookie. All he wanted was to be behind the walls of his home, away from the memories of Fangtasia and of the outside world. He wanted it to be just the two of them, because he always felt, he hesitated to call it more human, when he was with her, but he felt better, more honest about himself. He led her down the stairs to his own rooms, completely bypassing the upstairs; she was more special than the others who had been there. He wanted her in his space; whether she understood the significance of it or not. She held his hand tightly even as they reached the basement. He had thought to ask her for a moment to change out of the ashen clothing but as he turned back to her, her tug on his hand pulled his body to hers as she went up on her tiptoes and pushed her mouth against his, lips already parted, passions quite obvious.

Her hands snaked around his waist, pulling the shirt from his pants frantically. Her warm hands lit on his skin, pushing against it, kneading it, forcing her hips and chest against him. He could feel the beat of her heart thudding in his ears like a drum, stealing his senses, already addled by the taste of her mouth, the scent of her blood just below the surface of her skin, the pulse of her arteries below his fingertips as he cradled her neck in his hands, kissing her as if she gave him life by the touch. There was no disguising his own arousal; the pain of it was becoming distracting as he struggled to hold her as close to him as he could. Finally, he lifted her off the floor, her feet dangling and carried her to his bedroom, laying her on his bed. Then ripping his shirt over his head, and tossing it to the floor he brought himself out over her, forcing his mouth against hers again, grinding the ache in his body against her. He captured the moans that skipped from her lips into his throat, and allowed her the few moments to draw breath before pulling the softly ruffled white blouse from her body, burying his face between her breasts, feeling her fingers twine in his hair as her hips rocked against his.

As frantic as his lover, Eric freed himself from his pants, and ran his hands up Sookie's legs pushing her skirt to her waist and tearing her panties aside, desperate to be inside her. With another rough kiss, lopsided in his haste, he plunged his body within hers, thrusting with abandon as if beyond the control of his senses, as she met him, and clung to him, crying out for him. He had never believed it would have been like that, not after what she had seen, not after the tears and the fear. He believed that she would have retreated into herself again, hiding away from everything, but she had not, and he would have never guessed that her reaction would be the unbridled passion; her own, and what she had ignited in him. He didn't know if Vampires had adrenalin, but whatever the equivalent, it boiled under his skin, and behind his eyes, and it drove him to her, over and over. The sound of her voice; as his name slipped from her lips pushed him over the edge and as his fangs dropped he filled her completely, crying out, clutching her to him selfishly until a last arch of her hips drew him even deeper as her own orgasm rocked them both again.

But even with that, neither seemed satisfied, and sought out skin with their mouths again as they pulled off the mussed clothing they still wore, to lay, skin to skin.

"Take my blood Eric." She half whispered, half gasped in the moments when her mouth was free. The smile that crossed his face might have been terrifying in its intensity if it had been at any other time, and in any other place but their tangle of limbs in Eric's bed. He offered no thanks but simply sunk the points into the soft flesh where her breast met her arm, and began to drink, the sound of her moans filling his ears, enchanting him. Only when she quieted and became still did he pull away, suddenly aware of how her heart had slowed.

"Little one?" A fear gripped him that he had hurt her.

"Eric?" Her voice was dreamy and quiet, and she cuddled herself into him.

"I've taken too much of your blood."

"I'm fine Eric." Her eyes flickered.

"I want you to take my blood." He felt her tremble in his grasp.

"I don't like blood." And she turned her face into the crook of her arm.

"There's nothing to be afraid of Sookie."

"It tastes bad, like metal and it makes me sick."

"When have you tasted blood Sookie?" he wrinkled his forehead in concern.

"Mine, when my Uncle would hit me."

"Oh Sookie." He kissed her forehead suddenly feeling cold at the image her words conjured. He held her more tightly. "My blood is not like human blood. I swear to you that it will not make you sick."

"Won't it turn me into a Vampire?" She turned her face back up to him.

He laughed softly, "No my lover, it will give you back the strength I have taken from you. Amongst other things."

"Like what?" The sleepy smile delighted him.

"It will give you dreams of me for awhile, erotic dreams."

"I already have those." Her eyes closed slowly. "Will they get better?"

Again he laughed, "I don't know, do you have a good imagination?"

"Maybe."

"It will also enable me to sense when you are in distress, or when you feel any strong emotion. And I will be able to come to you."

"At least when the sun is down?" Her words were spoken slowly.

"I would even come if the sun was at its peak my little one, please, drink."

"I believe you would Eric."

Understanding her tacit approval he pulled her against him, her back to his front and brought his wrist to his mouth, tore his own skin, and then pressed the welling blood to her lips. Their vermillion edges wrapped the wound, and when her tongue lazily touched the red pearls Eric felt his whole body stiffen.

At first it was a tremulous advance on her part, Eric felt the heat and moisture of her tongue brush across his skin. He could feel, as the blood infused her, the force of her feeding increase if not the frequency. Sookie took her time, initial hesitation moving to languid consistency, and Eric felt himself becoming aroused again as she drank. He knew he was growing hard pressed against her thighs, and he could hear Sookie's heartbeat beginning to recover its rate and knew his own would have been racing if it had needed to beat. Grasping her waist with his free arm, his other still pressed to her mouth, he pulled her hips against him and slid himself inside her body again, taking a few moments to rest within the heat and moisture of their recently shared orgasms. With every strong pull of her mouth against his skin he pulled himself almost to the point of withdrawal and then slid himself in again deeply, matching her rhythm, and then her strength.

His body felt electric, infused with her fairy blood to the point of nearly feeling drunk, reveling in the afterglow of their first encounter, the air heavy with the scent of it. Her mind was opening to him as she took thin mouthful after thin mouthful of his blood into her body and he felt her tangle of emotions. Every touch made him tremble, and in the mix of it all his second orgasm shook him pulling a long moan from him, and a purr from Sookie, unlike anything he had ever heard.

**Next chapter, Eric reveals the truth.**

**Reviews are love**


	28. Chapter 28

Well I hope you enjoy Eric opening his soul to Sookie, just a warning that he will he be speaking about his early days with his maker, I don't think it's too graphic, but beware that sexual situations will be coming up.

Merick

Chapter 28 

He had wrapped her in the blankets of his bed, and laid beside her, stroking her hair softly as her strength returned. There was a comfortable awareness that was growing in him, that he could not only know her presence with his vision, but could sense it with his body. And while it was still somewhat indistinct, the fuzzy feeling within his mind of her emotions felt through his blood, now a part of her body, gave him a happiness the Eric Northman had not felt in a very long time.

"Sookie? My little one?" He coaxed her with his voice, willing her to open her eyes for him.

"Mmmm." Her response was a much more sedated purr than the feral one that had torn from her throat as she had brought him to his peak earlier.

"Are you well?"

"I am." She curled up to him, draping an arm over his waist and kissing his chest like a whisper.

"I am glad."

"Thank you for bringing me here Eric."

"The pleasure is all mine."

"Not completely." She giggled. He loved that his blood had given her back her strength, and perhaps given her the freedom to let her true nature emerge. He laughed with her, and kissed her head.

"You have given me so much of yourself Sookie. Let me give you something in return."

"You've given me everything I've ever dared dream of already Eric."

"But I have a promise to you to keep."

"The truth of all of this Eric?"

"Yes." He drew the word out in his own purr as he kissed her again.

She became more responsive, and pulled herself to look eye to eye with him, her muscles tensing suddenly against his skin.

"I don't want this to end Eric, I don't want this to be a fantasy. Please, don't tell me the truth if you think it's going to destroy this. I just want to stay like this for as long as I can."

"The truth is, my little one," he stroked her hair, "that you have given me such comfort, spiced with a little mystery of course, that I feel as though my own soul, if I can be so presumptive as to say that I have one, has finally found a kindred spirit. We have so much in common Sookie Stackhouse, more than I can even understand the sense of. So I promise you that nothing I say will bring you hurt. You were meant to be part of my life, because I have been where you are now, and as I survived, so will you."

"I don't understand Eric." He watched her screw up her beautiful forehead and kissed it again. Perhaps, he thought, his attempt at explanation was a little obtuse.

"Let me tell you about me, and about the story of how I was made a Vampire." He offered and curled Sookie into his arms again, so that he could watch her reactions, and so that she could watch his. He needed to see her every reaction as he gave her a truth he had given no one else.

"I read blogs, a lot of blogs, I've been called a student of the humanities by some." He chose not to get into who had said that, he had no intention of bringing up Bill Compton when he had so recently dispatched him. "Perhaps a hundred or so a week. I don't read people's rants about their bosses, or traffic, or how their lash-enhancing mascara doesn't really work." Sookie giggled a little at that, he had thrown it in to be funny. "I want to read about humans, how they view themselves, about their emotions, and their trials. Perhaps it is because I have become so far removed from real living that I crave to understand."

"You aren't that far away." She whispered to him serenely.

"Perhaps not." He acquiesced, thinking that if she could see him like that, that maybe there was hope for his humanity after all. "My friends tell me about interesting things they find, and I read. That was how yours was brought to my attention. I recognized parts of myself in your circumstances and strength; of course your telepathy had me very intrigued, I hope you will not blame me for that."

"Of course not Eric."

His internal strength, which had saved him from his maker, and had given him 1000 years of immortal life did not fail Eric as he had already made up his mind to tell Sookie the truth of himself, he did not hesitate, but launched into the story of how he was made, and how their lives had run parallel, if not a millennium apart in time.

"His name was Appius Livius Ocella, a Roman of ancient times and a man of extreme tastes and extreme cruelty. That was my maker, and I had the terrible misfortune to catch his eye. As he later told me, after turning me, he was attracted to my physical beauty as he watched me work, and his desires led him to feign an injury at the side of a road where I chanced to march. I stopped to check on the body I saw there, as he presented himself to me, and he took me down to the earth then. He threw himself astride me with ease after he pulled me into the blackness, and though I fought, with what I believed not inconsiderable power, I could not move him from me. When he dropped his fangs and laughed at my efforts I was certain that I had fallen victim to a demon; not that it stopped me fighting, and calling on my gods, even though it was futile. He bit and tore at me, savaging my neck and arms as I tried to defend myself, and he had all but killed me, weakening me to the point where I had no chance of survival. I was awash in my own blood as he continued to laugh over me, praising my strength, but taunting me with my imminent death. My vision was beginning to fade, closing in to black as it does when one's consciousness ebbs, and then I heard his offer, whispered in my ears; his mouth turned down as he was there to drink the last drops of my blood and end my life or begin it. Offer accepted it was life, immortality, and potency, not that he told me the price that came with it; that I would become the same kind of demon that he was, and that it would mean the end of my free will. I wanted to live, and for that selfish desire I was cursed. He cut his own breast and raised my mouth to the bloody wound, urging me to drink. I did not understand, though I know now it was the first act of subservience as his child; to drink at his breast and give him control.

"The thing about making a Vampire is that the child, which is what I was to Appius, must obey the commands of the maker. If they tell you to come or to go you can do nothing else. And when they tell you to kneel, you kneel." Eric felt an overwhelming need to simply touch her right then as the memories washed over him. Even without the words spoken Sookie seemed to understand that Eric needed her and she took his hand securely in hers.

"Appius desired my body, and the pleasures it would give him, and I was only a newborn when he first forced me to my knees, and made me take him. I struggled against him and against the revulsion my own mind heaped upon me, but his strength and his orders to me took away my chance to fight beyond the most cursory physical objections, which actually seemed to please him more. He took delight in torturing me to his pleasures. Forcing his body against and into mine until I cried out with the agony of it. I went to the earth a great many days throbbing in grief, physically, and mentally. My humiliation at what I had been reduced to made me want to meet the sun so many times, but I could not. Each sunset I rose again, whole, and healed, a target again."

"Eric?" Concern laced her voice, but he continued the story, now having begun it, needing to finish it, and to unburden himself.

"What is it you said Sookie?" Of course he remembered the words perfectly, "I am a survivor of childhood sexual abuse? Except that I was not a physical child, only a Vampire one. He raped me more times than I can remember Sookie, and, just like you, eventually I learned to be quiet, and to hold in the tears and the screams. I put myself elsewhere when he would come to me for that purpose. I understand now that he wanted a lover and a companion, as twisted as his methods were, he even tried to bring me to his ways, but you cannot command a child to become aroused, or to love you. He had my body but he did not have my heart, I was stronger than that, I did not let him break me. He came to see eventually that he would never have me the way he truly wanted, and he grew tired of me, finally releasing me from his influence, and I left him. But it was so many years Sookie that I was just like you. And I can see the power in you, to transcend all the hurt that has been done to you Sookie, just as I did. I want to help you in that."

"Eric, I had no idea." Her voice trembled as she spoke, and Eric could see the sparkling of tears rimming her blue eyes. He had not meant to be graphic in his descriptions, or to frighten her, or to draw some false kinship, he had only wanted to be honest to his memories and to hers.

"I have never told anyone else what I have told you. Not even my own child. But you had the honesty to put your suffering out there, to try to help someone, and while I don't have your courage in that way, I will do my small part."

"I will never, ever tell anyone what you've told me Eric."

"I know." He leaned into her and kissed her lips, confident in her words. When he drew closer she flung her arms around his neck, pulling her body to him. He felt her warmth and it made him relax just a little. The memories, something he did not indulge in very often, were no longer fresh, but still raised an uncomfortable sense in him, wondering what might happen if his maker reappeared, ready to try to command him again. 1000 years of strength and cunning might just be enough if Ocella showed his face in Area five; it was not unheard of to kill one's maker, just exceptionally difficult. But he did like a challenge. He and Sookie spent a few moments resting in each others' arms, Eric listening to Sookie's heartbeat and her breathing, allowing himself to relax in the knowledge that he had given her his worst secret.

She had seen him kill, she knew his shame, and there was only one other thing, to explain what he wanted from her telepathy. She was too kind to ask then he figured; probably assuming that he had flayed an already raw nerve in speaking about Ocella. She was partly right, but what Ocella had done to him had shaped who he had become. If Eric wanted something from a person he let them know what it was, he did not coerce or force loyalties, he did not demand love, and he did not manipulate others to find it. He could be cruel to those that had wronged him, but not unjustifiably. And he never forced sex on anyone. No one would ever be able to call him a rapist. His partners were satisfied when they left him, in whatever way they needed to be. And while he had said that he had never given his heart to Ocella, he knew that he had given it to Sookie. All that remained was to tell her, and to show her his last motives and answer his last question and hers.

"Little one?" He whispered to her, rousing her head from where she had laid it on his chest. "Have I frightened you with my story?"

"I'm okay."

"Then may I show you one more thing? The reason why your story touched me so deeply? The one mystery that kept me reading, and made me come to meet you?"

She nodded and he stood from the bed, offering her a hand to rise with him. She giggled shyly, and he realized that he was still nude, not an issue when he was alone, as he always had been in his suites before. The innocence made him smile and he retrieved his discarded jeans and slid into them. Holding out his robe for her. She left the blankets behind and slipped her arms into the black silk sleeves, allowing him to knot it around her waist, taking the opportunity to run his hands over her body once again. He knew if he stared too long at her that his arousal would become plain again, and he needed her to see the last secret before he made love to her again, hopefully within its midst.

"There is something about this house, something no one knows about but me, and soon you. I even glamoured the men who built it for me into forgetting so it would be entirely private." Eric stepped out of the bedroom and Sookie followed, her arms wrapped around her chest, telling Eric that she was worried about this last thing. He pushed against a piece of crown molding, not the typical secret bookcase of course, and the outline of a door, flush with the wall became faintly visible.

"Eric?" He watched her unwind her arms and reach out to barely brush the wooden wall that had moved so subtly.

"I had it dug out under the backyard, so that the area of the house, top to bottom would look exactly alike and no one would suspect." He pushed the panel inwards and stepped beyond the threshold, Sookie following, her hand reaching for his. He touched a light switch with his free fingers and soft light flooded the room. He waited for her reaction. She looked around, eyes growing wide, soft smile dissolving into a confused gasp.

"What is this Eric? What have you done here?"

**Reviews are love**


	29. Chapter 29

Time to give another FF shout out to my girls, you know who you are, and big thanks to everyone who reviewed; it has been a little tense grabbing computer time this week, so I am sorry to everyone who I didn't get back to. Trust me, I loved every review, and I loved how you all enjoyed the cliffhanger. So, ready to see what was behind door number one?

Thanks to CH for giving us these great characters to play with, and thanks to everyone who stops in to read.

Merick

Chapter 29

Sookie didn't know whether to feel angry or frightened or whether she should feel anything at all besides confusion. The room she had stepped into could have been plucked right from her own dreams. Hardwood paneling and bookshelves, a fireplace, the ox blood chair with the rivets, the mirror and the brass. As she looked around she felt her knees become weak, and she stumbled a bit, strong arms catching her and holding her back against a similarly strong chest until she felt like her legs could support her again and she could pull herself to a steady upright and advance into the center of the room.

Eric watched her without saying a word as she first walked to touch the leather chair, and then to the mantle over the fireplace to hesitantly reach out to see if the candlesticks were real, or just some kind of dream. They were solid and warm under her fingers, and she found herself being very careful not to smudge them with fingerprints. She next focused on the mirror, the elegant curves of its frame scrolling into shadows and saw back to Eric, still in the doorway of the room, hoping for some kind of an explanation in his face, but she found he was studying her just as intently and with the same hope.

"I don't understand." She managed to squeak out, even as she turned and looked at the bookshelves, and noted the fact that the door behind Eric, when closed, looked just like the other walls. It was the room she had fled to for nearly ten years, complete in every detail she could recall, suddenly brought to life, and though it was supposed to be a place of refuge for her, at that moment all it was, was confusing. Unsure of what she should do, she let herself slump down to the rug in front of the fireplace, curling her legs under herself, looking at the black grate.

"Eric? Why would you do this?" She spoke to the discolored bricks instead of to him.

"It's not that simple Sookie." He closed the door behind himself, completing the illusion of her dream, and came to sit beside her. She looked up at him, needing answers as he took her hand and pressed it to his chest.

"Little one, I didn't just build this room for you after I read your blog, though I would have if I thought that it would bring you just an ounce of comfort."

"Eric?" The confusion was only growing worse.

"Sookie, I had this room built for myself, when I bought this house," he paused, "ten years ago."

"Eric?" She repeated.

"I don't understand it either Sookie. Feeling your own surprise right now, can you imagine mine when I first read your description? No one in the world knows about this place. I glamoured the men who dug it out and paneled it, and I furnished it myself. You are the only person who has ever been in here besides myself. I have spoken of it to no one, not even my child."

"So I couldn't have somehow pulled it out of someone else's mind then?"

"I don't see how, and how you could have done it so long ago? And you couldn't have read my mind, not from so far away, when we had never met."

Sookie felt lost, though the idea that perhaps she could somehow read his mind crossed her own, and she closed her eyes and concentrated really hard on poking into his thoughts, but as always, there was only a black void. That reinforced reality made her feel shaky.

"I can't read your mind at all." She admitted to him, again hoping he would have some kind of answer. "So how Eric? How did we create the same thing at the same time?"

"I don't know, and can only guess that somehow we could sense each other, and that that connection brought us together? That or a third party put the seed in both our heads."

"And we made these choices together? I built up my room over years."

"As did I Sookie."

"And what do you use this room for?"

"It has two purposes Sookie. One is as a private place for myself to vanish to, to enclose myself where I can be alone, where I can shut out the rest of the world for a time. The other is a refuge, should I ever be threatened in my home. It is a place to escape to, and wait out a threat, and one of the panels on the far wall can be opened so that I can tunnel my way free if my other exits are blocked."

"What could possibly threaten you Eric, you're so strong?"

"Things I would prefer not to think about my little one." He stroked her cheek.

Sookie understood that perhaps Eric's fear was his maker, who he had only just told her about, or perhaps an overwhelming force bent on killing him? She preferred not to speculate about it either. Looking into his eyes she could see that he really was just as confused as she was, not that she had ever doubted that his assertions had been false.

"How did you choose the things that are here Eric, the books, the fixtures?" She dug desperately for some kind of clue, some 'ah-ha' moment.

"Having books has been a matter of pride for me, because those who are uneducated make mistakes based in emotion and ignorance. Experience counts for a great many things, or it did, when the world was a simpler place, but now, there is no excuse for not arming yourself with knowledge. I have lived a long time, but I do not pretend to know a fraction of what the world has to offer. I have brought these books here, from other lands and other times to advance myself."

"More noble reasons than me." She shrugged sadly.

"Only because I was given the opportunity. For a great many years when I was made Vampire I had nothing either Sookie."

"And why brass?"

"Practicality Sookie. I cannot touch silver; it burns my skin and steals my strength. Brass seemed like an elegant choice, and reminiscent of the past. You chose them because of the way they catch the light and the way the muted sparkles remind you of the earth and nature, is that right?"

"I did." The sound of his voice, and the way Eric chose the words he used dispelled some of the anxiety that Sookie was feeling. It was like he wove the poetry to comfort her, and she let herself rest against his chest, feeling an arm hold her close.

"Would you like to see just how beautiful it could be Sookie?"

"I would."

"Then let me leave your side for just a moment, to light the tapers and the fire. I apologize that it cannot be real wood, the venting requirements for a true chimney precluded their use here when I needed the space to be secret."

Sookie nodded, missing his arms even before he left her side, but it took him only seconds to light the candles and the fire, and to close out the electric light. Then he returned to her, sitting behind her, just as he had done back on the beach, holding her in his arms, and letting her relax against him completely. She watched the lights grow and begin to reflect against the walls and the brass. It was even more beautiful than her imagination had painted, and it made her feel warm, even when Eric's arms were cool against the silk of the robe he had given her to wear. She felt as if she was suddenly in a dream.

"There are so many things I don't understand about this other world Eric."

"It is your world too Sookie. You are as supernatural as I am."

"I'm not special Eric."

"Of course you are. More than you know Sookie." He kissed her head, drinking in the scent of her hair.

"What?" She crinkled her brow and turned her neck around to him.

"Besides your gift, your blood Sookie betrays a heritage as wondrous as my own. Do you recall anyone else in your family having any special talents?"

"Gram made an amazing sweet potato pie?" She offered; Eric only chuckled at her words.

"How about another telepath, or maybe someone who could predict the weather? Or perhaps someone else as beautiful to others as you?" He prompted.

"I don't know too much about my family. I was so young. I think I remember something about Grandpa knowing about farming stuff like when to plant and all, and my Dad and Jason always had a lot of women around them, girls found Jason attractive from the time he was about twelve on. He was never without a bunch of girlfriends. But what does that have to do with anything Eric?"

"Your Grandfather, your Dad's father? and he and your brother? Then the bloodline must come from the paternal side, your Grandmother's amazing baking skills aside."

"What came from my Dad?"

"Your fairy blood." His face was perfectly serious as he spoke the words, but Sookie wasn't certain if he was, or if this was some kind of joke, to lighten the mood.

"Fairy?" Her expression became one of incredulity as she continued to stare at Eric.

"Fairy. I can taste it in your blood. I have tasted Fairy blood before, but it has not been for centuries. It is exceedingly rare, and I had though, quite vanished from this plane."

"From this plane? What are you talking about?"

"Fairies used to walk among mortals, making mischief, and, it would seem, love with those mortals, creating children and leaving descendants. But their blood is so, what is the right word? exquisite, that they were hunted nearly to extinction. I had thought they had all left this world, this plane, for their own safety, but seemingly, some still made the passage between the worlds. I cannot say how far back your lineage goes, two or three generations, I know you are not full or even half blood Fairy, but it is certainly part of who you are."

"I'm a Fairy?"

"Part Fairy, my little one. And for that reason, many supernatural creatures may be drawn to you, especially vampires. Your decision to not go out in the evenings when it was the end of your cycle was a wise one. Older Vampires like myself would have scented you for a great distance, and the younger ones would have been drawn as well, though not truly understanding why. It is a policy you should maintain, quite strictly."

"Umm, okay." Sookie's head was beginning to swim again and she held tighter to Eric's strong arms as she sat in the glow of the fireplace.

"So much has happened this night, hasn't it Sookie?"

"More than I think I can even manage to sort out Eric. Forgive me if I don't seem to be reacting the right way."

"There is no right way Sookie. There is only what happens, what your brain and your spirit lead you to. I just hope, sincerely, that despite what has happened this night, or perhaps because of it, that you will not ever find a need to retreat into this room again, in your mind of course. I hope that should you ever feel that kind of fear or sadness that you will come to me. And if you aren't able to, because we have been parted by the sunlight or some distance, I hope that if you do find yourself here again, that you find me waiting for you."

Sookie felt Eric's arms tighten around her waist just a little, and then found herself gently spun in his arms and laid to the rug on the floor, the burgundy, cream and gold woven rug she had placed there in the same way he had. Hovering over her Eric reached for the belt on the robe she wore, his silk robe, and pulled at the strand, loosening the knot so that he could splay out the sides to expose her body to his desires again. Carefully, in the semi dark of the candle and fire's flames he bent his mouth to her skin and began to trail kisses down the center of her neck, to between her breasts and down to her abdomen, all the while freeing himself from the jeans he wore so that he would be completely free to make love to her again.

He wrapped his arms under her shoulders, lifting her just off the floor, and balanced himself on the balls of his feet as he slid inside of her. Holding her almost floating in that way let him thrust against her without his force pushing her soft skin against the hard floors, rug not withstanding. He had no desire to hurt her, but neither did he want to hold back the passions that were consuming him. He knew they might never discover the truth behind what had led them to create the same room, but being a man not prone to speculation he was able to leave that mystery aside. Right then all that mattered to him was the warm, wonderful woman beneath him, and the cries coming from her throat, and the touch of her hands on his back, her hips arching to his, meeting his climax with her own.

As much as he didn't want to leave the secret room, Eric knew that the sun would be rising soon, and while the thought of sleeping there on the floor didn't much matter to him, he wanted Sookie to be comfortable, and so, asking her permission he blew out the candles and put out the fire, and then carried her back to the bedroom. Settling her in the bed, and pulling a blanket over her he laid down beside her, already feeling the pull of the sun.

"I know it is a great deal to ask, but I find Sookie, that the thought of you not being here when I wake disturbs me greatly. Will you stay here with me, today? I know I will not be any company for you, but it would give me great comfort to know that you were here and safe as I sleep. Unless you have made other plans for yourself today?"

"Plans? I have no job to go to, all I do is shop with your money Eric. I have no plans."

"Do not worry about my money Sookie, thanks to you this evening I now find myself the half owner of a very prosperous Shreveport bar. So please, avail yourself of the house, there is a large bathtub down here should you wish to soak, and many pleasant oils for the water. There are televisions on each floor, and a computer on my desk. I apologize that the fridge is not stocked, but there is money in my wallet, order yourself whatever food you would like. And Pam has left several outfits here for emergencies, they are in the upstairs bedroom."

"I don't know that I'd feel right about just wandering around your house Eric?"

"What secrets could I possibly have from you now Sookie?"

"I suppose."

Eric's voice began to grow lazy, he knew the sun was well up by then, and he was fighting the urge to sleep.

"This evening will we talk about your living arrangements, and about your job situation if you like Sookie. I find that I truly enjoy your presence around me. Perhaps you will come to Fangtasia with me? You seem to bring good luck my way when you are there."

"I don't want to read fortunes in some back booth there Eric."

"What? What an absurd notion. Why have you thought of that?"

"Bill Compton," she began, quickly shushed by his fingers on her lips, even as his eyes began to flutter.

"Shh, I would never ask you to do something so silly. We are not in New Orleans where a tourist bar would require such a ridiculous thing. No, I find myself in need of a bartender it seems."

"Thank you Eric."

"We'll talk soon." His eyes closed completely, "I love you."

And then he was asleep.

**Now, will Eric's sleep addled brain remember what he's said? Hmm, tune in next week, same Bat time, same Bat channel.**


	30. Chapter 30

So the fanged muses took in a little bit of a different direction this week, but hopefully it gives us a good set-up to continue along with Eric and Sookie. Rest assured no one has vanished for a whole year to hang with the Fairy folk.

Part 30

It's been a while since I've been on the computer. I honestly never thought I'd survive the night that I wrote my last entry on this little blog, but so much has happened since, and I thought, maybe I could put a little epilogue on the story I left you with.

As you can probably glean, I'm not dead, which has turned out to be a really good thing. I want you to know that I had full intentions of ending everything and that those first entries weren't just some made up story or plea for attention. If you believe they were, well I don't know that there's a whole lot I can do to change your mind. If you do believe me, then thank you for your faith. I figure in the next few paragraphs, or more, (I'm getting long winded it seems, and there's so much to tell), that I'll drop enough hints that you could check out my facts if you need to.

Firstly, I have a job now, a real one, I'm a bartender at this cool Vampire club. (Now don't get all freaked out, they really aren't any different than regular humans, except for the being dead part. There are nice ones, and there are mean ones, and there are those that you can fall in love with, and who can fall in love with you.) So, I still work at nights, but that's okay, I kind of like the nights still, not that I'm trying to hide anymore. I work for the man I love, and besides bar tending I keep an inner ear open for anyone who wants to cause trouble around the club, sadly there are still a lot of people who don't want to understand any culture besides their own. So, don't come around thinking nasty thoughts because we have a tiger of a doorman, and he'll escort you out.

I have my own home too, a little condo, just big enough for me, that I got to decorate with silly knick-knacks and pink curtains and fluffy pillows. I have candles, and a TV with cable and my own notebook computer. (I learned you aren't supposed to call then laptops anymore, the companies are worried that they get too hot to sit on people's laps). My friend Pam helped me pick out clothes and shoes enough to fill a huge closet, and got me these wonderful spa sets and makeup. I feel like a princess. It just makes me happy to go inside, and I got to buy everything brand new. I don't spend every night there; I spend a lot of time with my man. (Boyfriend sounds a little infantile when you are talking about a thousand year old Vampire). And he is gorgeous, and sweet and kind, and fierce when he needs to be, and he loves me, and he tells me every single day.

I remember the day he first said it, or I guess the morning would be a better description. He was falling asleep, and that hits vampires hard I've come to learn, but he was holding out against the sunrise because he had so much to tell me, and so much to reassure me of. So many things had happened that night and we had discovered a connection between us that I am only just now beginning to understand the depths of. He was sowing the seeds for me to begin my new life, leaving the streets behind, and my isolation behind, and he was setting me up to dream and hope and plan for the things I wanted, and he just sort of threw the line in before he gave into his nature and slept. It was, and still is, the kindest, most romantic thing I've ever experienced. And his plan worked. I could hardly keep my own eyes open, after having been up for so long, and having been through so many swings of emotion. I fell asleep too, and dreamed the most wonderful things, setting things in motion for my little condo and my new job, and taking back my old name, everywhere. I woke that next evening, only a bit before he did, and it gave me a chance to just look at him as he slept. I've heard it said, I don't know where, that when you sleep you reveal your true face. It is not the mask we all put on to deal with the day and the people we must see, it is the truth of our nature, and I watched Eric's intently. I can't say he looked like an angel, his set jaw is too strong, and his brows too intense. But he looked peaceful and I could not resist the urge to reach out and stroke his cheeks, and just wonder at the goodness that seemed to sit below his skin. His eyes flickered as I touched him, and a smile turned up the corner of his lips. He was in that just waking state between dreaming and opening your eyes, not that Vampires dream, but you know what I mean, as your consciousness pulls itself out of the oblivion, but before the responsibilities and thoughts of the day ahead overwhelm your thoughts. That moment where you are just a six-year-old child with the whole world ahead of you; bliss.

"I love you." He whispered to me again and he leaned forward and kissed me, his blond hair falling across my face, his arms pulling me into his chest. I have never felt so safe as when I am in his arms. It only got better from there.

He insisted on setting me up in the condo. It is one of a number of units he owns, mine is on the ground floor, with a private little basement that we've done up for when he stays over. He also insisted that it was a benefit of my new job, along with health care and dental and all the stuff that humans need. I insisted on paying for the furniture at least, but while he pretended to go along with what I was telling him, the place was completely furnished when I moved in, with all the girly touches I had been describing to Pam. She sold me out apparently, but I really don't mind. She's been so nice to me, kind of like the big sister I never had.

I work three weeks out of the month at the club at night, one week, when it's that time in my cycle I stay away, kind of like before, but sort of different. I run daytime errands for Eric and Pam, and myself. And I also wandered back to the shelter. That place has always stuck with me, even though I was only there for those few days when I'd first run from Bon Temps. It probably isn't the place so much as the kids there. So many of them look just like I did, and they feel just what I did. I don't go prying really deep into their heads, but I catch things as I'm helping out, and they see me around, and I'm not much older than them and sometimes they come and talk to me and I give them the best advice I can. I know I can't save them all, or even change many of their circumstances, but I'm there, and sometimes I can give them an opening, and sometimes, when things have been really bad for them I can give the real social workers a heads up about when it might be time to get someone else involved, like the police. I will not spare any person if I understand that they have harmed a child the way my Uncle harmed me. (I guess I should mention that he passed away, my Uncle Bartlett, seems he had a heart attack out by his pond and fell right in.) Oh, and the lady I met when I first went there, with the almond shaped eyes and the long hair, she was still there, and she even recognized me. Her name is Claudine, we speak a lot when I go over. She's even come over to my house, but not when Eric is there. She's scared of Vampires.

I haven't been back to Bon Temps, not yet. Eric wants me to go, to talk to Jason. He thinks I need to do it and he's offered to go with me. Some day, maybe soon, I haven't decided yet. I did speak to Jason once, after I found out about Uncle Bartlett, the conversation didn't go quite the way I'd planned, he was hurting, and he wanted me to join in on that feeling, but I couldn't. I'm not a bad person, but I just couldn't, I can't feel bad that the man is dead. I couldn't explain why to Jason, not then. He never called me back, and I never tried him again. I broke down and told Eric about it all one night, I think that's why he got it in his head that I needed to talk to Jason in person, he was pretty angry that my brother never got it, about how much I was hurting, and why. He may want me to go out there so that he can holler at Jason; I'm not sure.

I haven't been thinking about that really, it's been so easy to think about other things. Eric keeps me busy, and I guess I keep myself busy, in good ways. And wow, when we get time alone together, he is so tender and loving to me, and a bit of a dynamo in bed. I never go wanting, I think I can say that and not be too scandalous. I'm trying to really carve out a good life for myself here in Shreveport, and I think I'm doing a good job of it. So that's almost all for now. I'll probably pop back in and tell you if Eric and I move in together, or when Pam and I go to New Orleans for some shopping and girl time. But you don't need to worry about me anymore. My name is Sookie Stackhouse, and I am a survivor of childhood sexual abuse.

You might not think that a man, a Vampire no less would ever write in a journal. For that you would be wrong. For while it is considered old fashioned now to write longhand, at one time it was the height of skill and breeding to even be able to write, to say nothing of owning implements and books. It was from this era that I began to write, and it is something I will continue to do. Not that I think my own story is something that is worth telling the world; unlike the premise for the Interview book Pam made me read, but I feel it is important to transcribe. Someday my child may wish to read it, or perhaps my lover, to better understand me. My memory of the events is perfect, but I may not always be here to tell the stories, and for that I want the events recorded.

I have met a woman. And I find that I love her, differently than I have ever loved another. I found her quite by chance, an online blog suggested to me by Bill Compton, a man no longer in my employ, but who did bring me to Sookie. Perhaps that is why I spared his life when he challenged my authority. He knows now, however that I will give him no further quarter. I felt a connection to Sookie from the moment I began reading her story. Three reasons come to mind immediately, and I have shared them all with her. She is a telepath, and I have never met a true telepath. Certainly there have been women who have claimed to know what I am thinking, and some who have made imaginative enough guesses to constitute amusing and distracting nights, but Sookie's talent is real. She cannot read Vampires, so for better or for worse she cannot read me, but she often knows exactly what I need, and for that I am grateful. Secondly, our pasts have a tie together, a shared childhood of abuse, something that made me need to reach out and save her. Thirdly, there is an even deeper connection, the truth of which I have only just found. And through a source that even I had not expected, a full blood fairy, Sookie's Fairy Godmother, Claudine. Though she was reluctant to speak with me, for obvious reasons, I was able to maintain my composure thanks to Sookie, and the gift of her blood, which satiated me to the extent that I did not feel the normal hunger that Fairy blood brings. She had an interesting story to tell Sookie and I, about a vision that we both shared, and though as she progressed through the tale I had to fight back urges to slaughter her, not for her blood, but for her apathy as I see it, I made it to the end.

Claudine has watched over Sookie, in a piss poor way from my reckoning, since she was a child, since her parents and grandmother had been killed. The way she told it, there was not a great deal she could do to help Sookie's situation directly, but she spoke of her attempts to influence Sookie's uncle, and how she had spared her at the least the final indignity he had wanted her for. Apparently the man had some idea about Fairies, and how to harm them, though she would not elaborate. And she could not simply kill him, being as she is working her way towards angel-hood, or whatever term of ascension the Fairies use. I held my tongue for Sookie's sake. But she did tell us that she had had a vision of me, in Sookie's life at some point, in a positive way. I recall that Sookie reached out and took my hand as Claudine described it. She likes to be grounded that way, it's a positive sort of physicality that makes up for all of the negative she has experienced I think. The Fairy felt that she might be able to link us somehow, and so she gave us both the seeds of a dream and the awareness of each other. Something she claimed that kept Sookie fighting and kept me searching. I don't know how much stock I put in her assertion, I have been studying humans long before Sookie was even born, and Sookie's inner strength is her own, not some Fairy gift. But again I kept quiet. It explained a great deal about how we both came to create our safe havens, and it gave some comfort to Sookie, which pleased me. What has not pleased me is the fact that somehow a Fairy got into my head, though she is quite old, and I have likely eaten a few of her kin, so I did not push the point.

Sookie and I have spent a great many months together to this point. You might think it odd that I have given her her own condo to live in, instead of insisting that she live with me, but I have done it because I know she needs to realize all the things she was denied growing up as she did. Right now I think she is in the teenage phase of her arrested development, as the condo is filled with pink and blue and purple colors, with throw cushions everywhere and girly sayings pasted to the fridge and walls. Fortunately, even though Pam has been quite the influence on her shopping habits, she has been modest in her acquisition of shoes and handbags. At the core, she is still an honest, down to earth girl who takes more pleasure from curling up with me in front of the fireplace, making love, or watching movies than from evenings at posh nightspots and theaters. She seems most at home in her black shorts and red tee shirt from Fangtasia, behind the bar smiling for everyone and pouring drinks, or as she is, unadorned, in my arms during the day. Both sights make me beam with pleasure, though the offers she gets at the club do raise my jealousy a bit, but she has never entertained any of them, I can tell by the way she looks up for me whenever the men or women approach her. It is not fear but perhaps a measure of reassurance for her.

It astounds me how well she has seemingly left her past hurt behind, though I know that sometimes it strikes at her, she is such a gentle soul. I have found her crying in my study on occasion, sometimes she has wanted to talk about her upset, other times not, and on those days I just hold her as tightly as I dare. Sometimes those occasions lead to making love, other times only to her falling asleep in my arms, exhausted. But one instance got me to thinking about her brother, and about how she has never spoken to him about the truth of what happened to her. I think this memory is holding her back in completely moving past things. She has made a new life for herself here with me, but her old life still exists in the minds of the people back in Bon Temps. And I have made up my mind, that even if I have to push her to it, she is going back to see her brother and to set things straight.

**And now we head back to Bon Temps to set a few folks straight about the truth of things, stay tuned. Oh, and more lemons too.**


	31. Chapter 31

Thanks for your patience this week, been working out a few things.

Merick

Part 31

The ride had been very quiet, and as they had approached Bon Temps, likely from the very highway she had used to flee all those years ago Eric could feel the tension spark around Sookie's body. Her back had grown straighter against the seat, and her hands, which she had been wringing in her lap for a good twenty minutes grew still, and grasped the edges of the seat until her knuckles were nearly white. He knew she was apprehensive about seeing her brother again, but he had truly not understood just how terrifying it seemed to be for her, returning to her hometown. He began to wonder if he should not have just had Jason brought to her, he had never meant to cause her such distress.

"I will be with you, at your side for all of this Sookie." He tried to reassure her.

"I know Eric." Her voice sounded very mechanical, and he got the impression that she had been scripting what she was going to say to her brother over and over in her head for nearly the whole trip. He reached over to brush her left hand.

"Everything will be alright, I will not let anyone harm you."

"I just need to do this Eric, I have to tell him the truth, even if he doesn't believe me, I can't have him thinking that I did any of this because it was what I wanted."

"We will make him understand Sookie."

"You'd glamour him?"

"If you asked me to I would. But I think that your words will be enough."

"I hope you're right Eric."

"Where do I turn Sookie?"

"A left, just up here." She pointed into the darkness, knowing the road to Bartlett's place even after all the time away.

"I will keep you safe." He promised again as he saw her gaze shift, fixed to the house that was coming into view. "No one will ever harm you again."

Her grip on his hand was solid, and she walked just a half step before him, up to the old porch, up the three steps, past the wooden chairs, slats colored black by the mould that grew in the Louisiana heat. A trembling white fist knocked on the frame of the screen door, and she took a step backwards to wait, holding her breath until someone began to unlatch things from inside. The front door opened, but not to Jason, it was a woman, perhaps four or five years older than Sookie, wearing a cotton dress that had seen better days, but that at least modestly covered her swollen belly. She had to be eight months along at least, and she looked tired, though not in a wholly bad way, just the way the demands of a baby growing inside you do that to you.

"Hello?" She asked, sizing up the people outside her door.

"Umm, hello." Sookie began, "Is Jason home?"

"No, sorry, he and the crew were working late tonight, I guess he's at Merlotte's having a drink with them right now." There was a sharpness to her voice that betrayed her anger at being left at home while her man was out enjoying himself with the boys. "Don't know when he'll be home."

"You must be Maudette then?" She offered.

"Yes. And you are?"

"My name is Sookie. Jason's my brother."

"Well hell, didn't expect to ever meet you." Maudette still wasn't opening the door to them, but Eric doubted that Sookie would have wanted to venture in even if the offer had been extended. He knew that Sookie could see the truth behind Maudette's posture as easily as he could.

"Has Jason mentioned me?" Maudette might not have understood the cadence in Sookie's wavering voice, but Eric did.

"Briefly, he doesn't talk a lot about his family, not since his Uncle died. Lots of things have changed since then."

"I can see. Congratulations."

"Thanks."

Eric watched as the women stared silently at each other for a few moments, he did not profess to understand exactly what was going on, and he was not about to speculate or comment on their likenesses to any sort of animal, sizing up a newcomer to the pack.

"Perhaps we should just go Sookie?" He reached out for her arm. Sookie stepped backwards into his grasp.

"Yes, I suppose we should Eric. I don't want to bother Maudette any more than we already have." She turned away from the door, and Eric did with her.

"Oh," came the call from behind them, "sorry about your loss by the way." The girl was trying to be polite, though the notion had come to her rather late as far as Eric could see.

"I'm not." Sookie mumbled, and they both heard the squeak of the door as it closed.

"Lovely woman." Eric offered as they headed back to the car. "I guess you are going to be an aunt?"

"Maybe, maybe not, she isn't completely certain that Jason is the dad." Sookie sighed. "I hate this place."

"Do you want to find this Merlotte's Bar and look for your brother?"

"Yeah, we'd better, because after tonight I am never coming back here again, so I'd better get it done now."

It hadn't been hard to find the little roadhouse style bar, really there wasn't much in Bon Temps, and Sookie's memory was good enough that she was able to direct Eric to its most likely location. She had practiced her telepathy on Maudette, which was how she had determined that she didn't know for sure who the father of her child was. It had flashed into her brain as soon as Sookie had mentioned her connection to Jason, bright as a neon sign. Now she was throwing her mind out a little farther, as she leaned against the passenger door of Eric's car, staring at the wooden slats that made up the face of Merlotte's; complete with its own neon sign. The work at Fangtasia had made her more adept at sorting out distinct minds, where before it had often been a cacophony in crowds, minds blending together, now she could select minds and focus on them more completely. She gave Eric credit for much of that, because his presence in her life had relieved her own mind of so many difficulties that she could more easily direct her thoughts.

Sookie picked through the minds as Eric watched her patiently, seemingly listening in on his own, with his own excellent hearing. Periodically she would see him wrinkle his forehead, doubtless at some overheard nonsense. He was a student of humanity, but Sookie wasn't quite ready to give the denizens of Bon Temps that kind of credit.

She sorted through the mind of the town drunk, Maxine Fortenberry, still out and about even at that late hour, justifying her drink with the fact that she had spent most of the evening in church, working on the Christmas community fundraiser. She was thinking about her son, Hoyt, who was also present at the bar, not enough that she felt embarrassed at him seeing her the way she was, but feeling a sense of entitlement to do as she pleased; assuming that she was the life of the party, and he would give her a ride home. Sookie remembered Hoyt, Jason's best friend, not just because he had been present when she had seen Jason at the Shreveport casino, the incident that had precipitated her suicide attempt, and all that had followed with Eric, but also because his soft spoken nature had always stuck with her. He had always seemed like a gentle soul to Sookie, almost as out of place in Bon Temps as she was. For his part Hoyt was trying to avoid thinking about his mother, and how mortified he was whenever her voice drifted over to where he was sitting. The men around him seemed sympathetic to his plight, her brother included.

"He's in there." She whispered to Eric.

"Shall we then?"

She nodded and they proceeded to the door, Eric opening it for her, and then stepping in behind her. Most everyone in the place turned to see which of their neighbours had chosen to join them, the stares they received ranged from uninterested glances, returned to their glasses, to full out gaping eyes, wondering who they were and by what right they thought they were invited into the bar.

"Evening folks," came the greeting from the bar, the bartender, he was a man of average height, sandy brown hair and a close-cropped beard. He looked comfortable in his plaid shirt and jeans, and Sookie reckoned, without looking into his head, that he was likely the owner. "Just sit wherever you like." Sookie watched him size up Eric, and she got the distinct impression that he knew right off that he was a Vampire, it hadn't dawned on Maudette, so that moved the bartender/owner up one rung on the Bon Temps scale. She forced herself into his mind to find it more closed to her than open. That was odd, it was more like Quinn's mind than anyone else's, and that set her to wondering if there wasn't something else to the man. But she didn't take the time to explore it, or him.

"We're just here to speak with Jason Stackhouse." Eric answered. It did little to set the man's mind at ease as far as Sookie could see. He was preparing to have to defend his patron, and yes, he knew Eric was a Vampire.

At the sound of his name Jason looked over to the door. He had been one of the few not to do so when it opened Sookie noticed. She thought he was likely afraid that it was going to be Maudette, trying to drag him home. He set his eyes on Eric first; most people did, being as he was so tall, and so very beautiful. But Jason's gaze quickly shifted to Sookie, and the recognition was as instant as it had been at the casino.

"Sookie?" He said, one eyebrow raised and his lips curled up like Elvis.

She and Eric walked over, she could feel the stares of the other patrons returning to her, a good many of them remembered her name it seemed, she did not want to look into their heads to see what else they might have been thinking.

"Can we talk Jason?" He hadn't moved from his chair around the highly lacquered table, where three other men sat, all of them looking more or less like they had come in from a hard day of honest outdoor work.

"What do we need to talk about?" The bitterness in his voice made it obvious that he hadn't gotten past her not returning for the funeral, or perhaps it was still the shame at having seen his baby sister dressed up like a whore.

"I just wanted to talk to you about what happened, before, when I left."

"And who's this guy behind you? Your pimp?" He barely looked up at her as he said it. Sookie didn't even get a chance to reply, not that she had the time to formulate what that reply might have been, before Eric thrust past her and had her brother held up my the collar of his work shirt, feet dangling off the floor, the chair he had been previously occupying, knocked to its side on the floor.

"What did you say?" He hissed in Jason's face, fangs dropped in absolute rage.

"Holy shit." Was the essence of the reaction from Jason's companions, who had at first leapt to his defense as he had been rousted from his seat. They backed away with widened eyes at the sight of the angry Vampire.

"Is there a problem here?" Everyone but Eric himself turned back to see the bartender, now brandishing a shotgun; not that it would have done a great deal of good against Eric Sookie thought.

"No problem at all. Mr. Stackhouse here just needs to learn some manners when he talks to a lady." Eric answered, still staring Jason into oblivion with a leer that said he would just as easily tear out his throat as put him down.

"Please put him down Eric." Sookie pleaded, not wanting to cause a further scene, even though everyone in the bar was now looking at them, including Maxine, who's eyes had developed a wicked sheen to them.

"If you say something like that again boy you will regret it, do you understand me?"

Jason nodded like a dashboard hula girl and Eric slowly set him on his feet. A few seconds passed where no one moved at all, but slowly, eventually, everyone returned to their drinks and the bartender returned to his post, tucking the shotgun back away from wherever it was that he had retrieved it in the first place. Only Jason, Eric and Sookie remained standing, his three friends having shied away, taking their drinks with them, to quite the other side of the establishment. It left the trio virtually alone because most everyone else was doing their best to at least look like they were ignoring them.

"Are you ready to listen to your sister, or do we have to take this conversation outside?"

Jason sat back down heavily in one of the chairs, Eric righted the one that had fallen over, and held it out for Sookie, choosing to remain standing, just between them, Sookie supposed it was to ensure that if Jason tried anything else Eric deemed inappropriate that he would have easy access to haul him away.

"What do you need to say to me Sookie?" It was obvious that he was doing his best not to make eye contact with her, it made Sookie feel very sad, but she knew there were only a few sentences to say and then she could leave.

"I want you to know why I ran away Jason."

"So tell me?" She got the impression he really didn't care, he just wanted to be free of her, and the menace of Eric. That made it really hard to say the words she needed to, her script hadn't included him behaving like an ass.

"It was because of Uncle Bartlett." She managed to get out.

"You never liked him, did you Sookie?"

"You don't understand Jason," she tried to begin again, but the alcohol in his system seemed to be shoring up his courage and he interrupted her once more.

"I know we didn't have much Sook, but he kept a roof over our heads, and food on the table, even if he did drink a bit."

"A bit Jason? As soon as he sold Mom and Dad's house he disappeared for a week and got hammered, he'd have drunk away Gran's money too if she hadn't left it with the lawyer."

"Is that why you're back Sookie? To get your share of Gran's money?"

The accusation left her momentarily stunned.

"No Jason, it isn't, I don't give a damn about the money. I have my own job, and my own place."

"Working for the Vamp?"

"I'm a bartender Jason." She couldn't help but see the images that flashed into his head, but she held back her hurt and tried to continue. "And yes, I work for Eric here."

"Figured as much." At that, Eric growled, just under his breath.

"You know Jason," Sookie stood up, "it doesn't matter why I left. I obviously had this town pegged for exactly what it really is, a population of self-serving, holier than thou red necks. And you can have it." She stood up, steeling her shoulders. "I want to leave Eric."

"Are you certain my little one?"

"I thought I needed him to know, but I really don't, it won't change anything that happened to me. And I don't need him to understand. It means more that you have Eric." She stepped away from the table and walked towards the door.

"What the hell are you talking about Sookie?" Jason finally pushed himself out of his chair, just as Sookie turned for the door. A cold hand clutched at his shoulder, forcing him to look up at Eric and away from his departing sister. The Vampire leaned in to him, and whispered harshly in his ear.

"Your Uncle was a pedophile. And there is a special place in hell for people like that." Then the hand was gone, as was the Vampire, the door to Merlotte's slamming shut behind the breeze.

"A pedo-what?" He said out loud, looking in a confused, wide eyed gaze back at Sam, the bartender, who seemed less confused then relieved that the massive blond Vampire had left without destroying anything or anybody. Jason made to follow the two of them out to the parking lot, suddenly feeling a sick wave in his gut, that something was seriously wrong.

"Sookie!" He called out as soon as he spotted them. She was leaning against the passenger side of the car, a beautiful red Ferrari Spyder. While he couldn't help but notice the gorgeous car, totally out of place in Bon Temps, it was actually the fact that his sister was sobbing that struck him, because it brought back so many memories of when they had been kids, before she'd left. She had cried so much back then.

"Go away Jason." Her voice hurt him too, she sounded so small, she even looked that way, wrapped up in the arms of the Vampire she'd called Eric.

"Tell me what you need to say Sookie." She looked at him, tears still glistening in her eyes, but stayed silent, lost for the words to use.

"Your sister ran away from home Jason because your Uncle Bartlett was abusing her." Eric spoke for Sookie, glaring at him as he did so.

"Abusing you?" Jason couldn't wrap his mind around exactly what Eric's words had meant. His expression showed it. Bon Temps didn't have things like abuse, not as far as Jason knew. Sure, sometimes folks got slapped around, but then they made up and nobody talked about it. That was the way it always was. Good folks didn't get into each other's business, and folks like Maxine Fortenberry, well there might be some women would listen to her, but most everyone knew she was a drunk every day but Sunday.

"From the time we moved in with him, not that he hadn't tried before, but Mom or Gran was always there to protect me." Sookie spoke mostly into the crook of Eric's arm. When Jason had no answer to her statement Eric stepped in again to speak for her. It was easy for Jason to see how protective the hug man was of his sister, he could still feel where his collar had dug into the back of his neck.

"From the time she was eight years old he would go to her room at night Jason. And when she wouldn't do what he asked he'd hit her."

The light of understanding finally began to shine in Jason's head.

"All those cracked lips and bruises Sookie?" She nodded.

"He touched you?" Jason could feel the sickness flare again in his gut, and along with it, a growing sense of rage. Sookie nodded again.

"Oh God Sookie, I had no idea."

"You didn't want to have an idea!" Eric roared, clutching Sookie closer to his chest. "No one in this pitiful town wanted to have an idea! And a little girl paid the price!"

Eric's roar had brought Sam out of the bar again; Jason could see the light spilling out from the open door. Another person had followed him as well, and Jason was beginning to feel self-conscious.

"Sookie? I'm sorry?" He offered. She wiped the tears off her face and continued to stare at him.

"I just wanted you to understand Jason, I just didn't want you to hate me. And I didn't want the people around here to think I just ran off because I was into drugs or was a bad kid."

"No one thought that Sook."

"Really Jason? And what did they say?"

He thought about it for a moment, wanting to make sure that whatever he did say didn't make her feel worse, and didn't bring the wrath of the Vampire down on his head.

"They just didn't say much. Most of them just thought you were still really sad about Mom and Dad and Gran, and they said that you'd just never gotten over it." It was the truth, or at least part of it. Others had said that she must have started taking drugs or that she was too dumb to know when she had it good, or that she'd run off with some sordid boyfriend. He didn't say it out loud, but the look in Sookie's eyes, tears forming again, made him wonder if she hadn't just heard it anyways.

"You tell them the truth Jason, make it up to your sister that way." Eric snarled.

"I can't tell everyone Uncle Bartlett was some kind of degenerate."

"Perhaps you won't have to do it yourself." Eric motioned back to Maxine, who looked positively gleeful at the juicy bit of news she'd overheard.

Jason hung his head, he knew that Maxine would have some form of the truth disseminated by sunrise, and he knew that there were going to be questions for him. Ones he would rather not answer. He had enough to worry about with Maudette's pregnancy, and her wanting to get married and all to think about the man who had raised him being called a pervert. He looked at his sister, pleading with her not to say anything else, wishing it could all just go away. He saw her wipe at her eyes with her sleeve, the corners of her mouth turning down in a very sad smile.

"Can you glamour her Eric?" Sookie asked. He had no idea what that meant, but kept his ignorance to himself, because it seemed like she was trying to do something to help him.

"If that is what you want Sookie. But are you certain?"

"I can't let Bartlett's legacy destroy two lives."

"As you wish."

Jason watched as Eric walked over to Maxine, who seemed to be frozen on the spot. The way he captured her eyes was downright scary.

"You will remember nothing of what you have overheard here. You never left the bar, in fact, you were just on your way to ask for a ride home."

"From Hoyt!" Jason called over, trying to be helpful. The Vampire turned back to him, wrinkling his eyebrows, then continued.

"You were going to ask Hoyt for a ride home." He added, and Jason watched as Maxine turned around like a zombie and walked right back into the bar as if nothing had ever happened. Eric turned to look at the bartender. "Him too?"

"Don't try that glamour shit on me Vampire." Sam said, stepping away, dropping his eyes to the ground.

"Sam's okay, you won't say anything will you Sam?"

"Sam?" Eric added with a low menacing tone, needing his own answer it seemed.

"Don't worry, I've kept worse secrets than this one." He tipped his head to Sookie, "Sorry Miss Stackhouse, not to say this isn't a terrible thing that was done to you. I am real sorry you had to go through that."

"Thank you." She mumbled.

"I'll just make sure Maxine doesn't hurt herself then." And Sam walked back into the bar, leaving the trio outside, on their own again.

"We should go Sookie. Unless you need to do anything else here?"

"No, nothing at all Eric." Sookie gave Jason a last little sad smile.

"Wait Sookie. Can I, can I call you or something?"

Eric held out a business card for him, he took it and looked it over.

"Fang-tae-see-a?" He pronounced.

"It's my club, it would perhaps be best if you called there to speak with Sookie. At least in the beginning."

"I understand." He actually did, which sort of surprised him. He pocketed the card and looked one more time at his sister as she slipped into the really sweet ride the Vampire had brought. He figured he was allowed to appreciate the car now. He could feel it's low rumble all the way through his work boots as it pulled out of the parking lot. Not that he actually knew the word surreal, but its definition was the epitome of what he was feeling just then. He looked back at Merlotte's, shook his head and went instead to his truck. He was intent on making one extra stop on the way home, the Bon Temps Cemetery. Because he was going to head over to Bartlett's grave and kick over the headstone, face first into the dirt, and then spit on it.

**Reviews are love**


	32. Chapter 32

Well, thank you so much for coming on this journey with me. This is just a little epilogue to wrap up Sookie's story for now. I hope it pleases, and leaves you a little hungry for more.

Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed and enjoyed this little story. On to the next.

Merick

Part 32

She'd gone into work early, she did it a few times a month. Quinn had picked her up, Eric had asked if she wanted to take driving lessons, but so far she had declined. The truth was, she found a great satisfaction in having men take her where she asked them to, and she was also a little afraid of what kind of vehicle Eric would have tried to buy her if she had gotten her license. If the furnishings in her 'unfurnished' condo were any indication, she would end up with little say in the matter, and she had already confided too much to Pam about Eric's beautiful cars. Quinn was out front of the club, supervising a parking lot cleanup, making sure that his boss got what he was paying for, and Sookie was going over some purchase orders at one of the back tables. Eric had insisted she start reading such things, so she could learn the business side of pouring drinks. It was his intention, and he had made no secret of it, that he wanted to her to take over some of the day manager duties in a few months, when she got really comfortable with the day-to-day operations of the establishment. He had asked if she wouldn't mind taking a few business courses from the local community college, and though she was afraid of the idea, she had agreed. He really asked so little of her, and what he did ask was never a real imposition, it always had a pragmatic motive, as it did in that case. One course at a time, she figured to herself, she could get through the basics; as long as Eric was patient with her progress, not that she had even needed to ask him for that. Most of the notations on the page she was reading were still mysterious to her, but she asked questions when Eric came in, and she found herself finally recognizing certain things.

She was still reading over the orders when Quinn came in the front door, a smaller man behind him, but of course most men were small when they stood behind Quinn. She cast out her mind to see who it was, at about the same time as she looked up to see a bouquet of carnations and daisies.

"Jason?"

"Hi Sook." Her brother's face peered out from behind the cellophane wrapper. "I hope you don't mind me just dropping by without phoning and all?"

She kept seated, still a little unsure about how to greet him. Her anger had dissipated after their last meeting, but she hadn't replaced it with anything but an emptiness. She really hadn't expected to see him again.

"No, that's okay, I'm glad I was here." She put on the practiced expectant smile of pursed lips and raised corners. "Has something happened?" She knew from her quick glance into his brain that he wasn't particularly focused on anything just then, but she began to suspect that was just his way, purpose driven, but not too far.

"No, everything is good, thanks for asking. I just wanted to bring you something." He stuck out his arm with the flowers and finally she stood up from the banquette seat.

"Well thank you, they're very pretty."

"Not just that Sook. I went to see the lawyer, about Gran's estate."

"Oh?"

"I got him to write you out a cheque for your half. I know it's early and all, but he was happy to be rid of the deal, and to finally get his fees." He started digging in his jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope, which he also handed over.

"I don't need this Jason." She began to protest.

"But Gran wanted you to have it Sookie, so just take it. Buy yourself something nice with it, or put it in the bank."

"Well, okay, I guess." She took the envelope from him, a feeling of sadness rising in her gut from the previous emptiness.

"There isn't a whole lot left of our family's stuff, but there were a couple of other things, things Gran wanted you to have." He dug back into a different coat pocket and pulled out a velvet bag. "Uncle Bartlett sold off everything he could find when Gran died." Sookie remembered that with a little shudder. "But Gran was smart enough to leave a few things in a safety deposit box, he didn't know about it, but her lawyer did. It isn't much, but they were hers and I just thought you should have them."

That gesture stunned Sookie, and she put the flowers and the envelope down on the table, taking the bag in both hands carefully, as if it would break if she handled it too roughly. She spilled out the contents into her palm. A string of pearls, a gold broach, and a ruby ring, all sparkling with the glimmer of age and love. A tear came to her eyes and she stared at the items for a good few minutes.

"You okay Miss Sookie?" She heard Quinn ask in his deep voice, the one that came right from his chest, and right from his hidden aspect. She nodded because she didn't have the words right then.

"I'll leave you be then Sookie. I just wanted to make sure you got everything okay." Jason turned to leave but she stopped him.

"The baby?" She asked.

"A little girl. She's out in the truck with Maudette. Did you want to meet her?"

"Yes, please." Carefully putting the few pieces of jewelry back in the bag Sookie wiped her eyes and followed Jason out to the parking lot, Quinn a few steps behind.

Maudette was in the truck, as Jason had said, looking distinctly nervous. It wasn't hard to sort out that she wanted to be anywhere but parked in front of a Vampire bar as sunset was approaching. On her lap was a little bundle of pink, tiny hands reaching to tangle themselves in mom's hair. Jason opened the door and reached in to pick the baby up very gently and turn her to face Sookie.

"Sookie Stackhouse, meet Adele Stackhouse." A little face, framed with black hair stared at Sookie, tiny lips rubbing together in a baby sort of crinkle.

"You named her after Gran?" She put out a finger to just brush the rosy cheek carefully.

"Yeah we did. And I promise you Sookie, I am going to take good care of this little girl, I'm not going to let her down, like I let you down. Nobody is ever going to hurt her."

"You're gonna be a great dad Jason."

He curled up his mouth into that silly half smile, and shifted his gaze from his sister back down to his daughter.

"Thanks Sookie, that means a lot."

"You'd better get going, it's chilly out and I'm sure Maudette is nervous being here."

"Okay, but I hope maybe you'll come and visit sometime, or maybe I can bring Adele down, when she doesn't rely on her Mom every few hours."

"Sure Jason. That would be nice."

She watched him hand the baby back to Maudette, and offered a little wave to the woman, who returned it nervously, then strapped Adele into her little car seat and got herself ready to go. Jason slid in the other side, offering his own little wave and then started the truck and pulled away. Sookie watched them go, her hands, still clutching the velvet bag, arms wrapped around her torso.

"We should go back inside Sookie." Quinn offered, "It's cold out here."

"Yeah, we should."

"Quinn told me your brother came by earlier?" Eric had finished up his business calls, the first thing he dealt with each night as he came to the club. He was now leaning against the service side of the bar, watching Sookie. She'd put the flowers in a spare vase, and they were at the back by the register.

"He did." She'd been quiet since Jason had left, not sure what to feel, not sure what to allow herself to feel. "Introduced me to my niece."

"How are you?"

"Okay I guess. He brought me a few things that belonged to my Grandmother. That was thoughtful. He brought a cheque too. I didn't even look at it." She'd jammed the envelope into her pocket when she'd come back into the club, then had busied herself with getting the flowers sorted and the bar set up. She pulled it out and tore open the envelope. Her face went a little pale as she read the numbers.

"Sookie my little one, are you all right?"

"Oh God Eric." She held the slip of paper out to him. He took it and glanced at it as well, a smile broadening on his lips.

"You're Gran certainly did well by you."

"Eric, that's $100,000."

"It is indeed. You are rich my little one."

"What the hell am I going to do with all this?"

"Put it in the bank for now I hope."

"I can pay you back for everything Eric."

"Absolutely not."

"But?"

"Shhh my little one, I will have the new accountant get in touch with you and give you some advice about it. But it is your money Sookie, and if nothing else, let it be a comfort to you, knowing you have it at your disposal."

She thought about Eric's words for a few moments. The money would be enough to start a life of her own, not beholden to anyone. There was a comfort, as Eric had said, to knowing that she could. Not that she had any particular desire to change anything that she had right then, but, well? Eric seemed to understand her silent pondering, and waited on her to come to some conclusion.

"I am yours Eric." She finally said, looking into his sparkling blue eyes.

"You are my lover, and my heart, but if you want to walk away from me, though I will grieve, I will not stop you."

"I don't want to walk away Eric, I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

"It pleases me to hear that. But put the money away for yourself anyways Sookie." She nodded, feeling the warmth that Eric always seemed to inspire, rising in her chest. He stepped towards her, pushing away from where he had been leaning against the bar. He let his hands light on either side of her face gently, and drew his own mouth over hers to kiss her carefully. She let her body melt against his.

"Sometimes I really wish that I could read your mind Eric."

"Perhaps it is better right now that you can't?" He whispered through a grin. She smacked him on the arm, her own grin making her face and mood brighten visibly.

"You might be right."

"Though, if you were interested in getting into my head, as it were, there are ways my little one."

"There are?"

"We call it bonding. Perhaps we should discuss it one day soon?" He brushed his fingers down the side of her face, making her tremble.

"I get the impression that this bonding is something serious."

"It is."

And with that he was gone, back to his office, as Quinn was making ready to open the doors, leaving Sookie with a vague confusion but little time to ponder it. It was Eric's way, teasing her, but always with good intentions, or good consequences once the night became theirs. She had a feeling that this discussion would be no different and busied herself behind the bar, enjoying the smell of the flowers in the vase behind herself, and the lingering warmth of Eric's presence in her heart.


End file.
